Dark
by anniepear
Summary: She was a good girl, a perfect daughter searching for her lost parents. He was labeled insane, a violent and carefree mercenary with nothing even resembling morals. And despite her better judgement, she had to go to him for help. Neither of them could have expected the outcome. "Only someone so light could have changed the heart of someone so dark." (T for mild swearing)
1. A Deal With The Devil

**So, here comes story number one. Not like the number one story but my first story on her because hey, I'm not **_**that**_** good. I love Puck and Sabrina so much that I created an alternate universe where I could play with their feelings. Mwahahaha.**

**Sabrina: You think that laugh makes you cool. It doesn't.**

**Me: ….and on with the disclaimer…**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sisters Grimm. Buuuut I do own this story so back off. And technically speaking, I own the alternate universe versions of the characters. That means you Sabrina.**

**Sabrina: I hate you.  
**

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**Ch.1: A Deal With The Devil**

I had just walked into the bar and I was already uneasy.

The lights were dim, the entire room smelled of some form of alcohol, and I had already spotted five unconscious bodies beaten to a pulp. Overall, a very nice place.

But it was too late to back out now, and besides, this was my last chance. Every mercenary or 'under-cover agent' or expert tracker had been completely inadequate in finding my parents. But they had all shared one thing- give them enough money and they'd point you to the best in the field they knew, someone who might actually be of any use to me. That one person was always the same.

Deadnight.

I'd heard rumors of him as soon as I'd started my little solo expedition. Stories of people he'd killed, people he'd saved, people who hated him. People who labeled him a raving lunatic.

Well, everyone had labeled him a raving lunatic. But this raving lunatic was my last hope, so I just had to suck it up for now if I ever wanted to have a family again.

The only good thing about the bar was that it was warm, an amazing contrast from the harsh winds and burning cold outside. I immediately took off my gloves and scurried over to the fireplace in the corner, hoping to attract as little attention as possible.

I would wait. I would sit there by the flames and wait for Deadnight, who supposedly arrived every night at ten for dinner when he didn't have a current mission. And my sources said he didn't have one. So I should've been good to go.

Only waiting in a sketchy Everafter bar in the middle of New York was not as fun as it might sound. It wasn't long in before I felt the glances shooting towards me, the eyes trained on me, making me uncomfortable. If they recognized me as a Grimm, I was dead.

For your information, lots of Everafters hated Grimms. Detested them. Apparently a long time ago we tried to contain them with some magical bubble in this city called Ferryport, but they managed to break out. The Grimms have been able to keep them from showing themselves to humans for the past decades, to protect the world from war, but not without a price. While lots loved us and we helped even more settle into a human ruled world, we became the common enemy of a lot of Everafters. And word had been spreading recently of uprisings too, revolutions against us and the humans.

Not good.

If the people here discovered who I was, I'd be toast.

I tried to stay calm, breathing deeply, looking as intimidating as possible with my knife and combat boots, but I still jumped when a man suddenly sat down beside me.

He smelled like beer, enough that I had to resist recoiling, and he was far too close for comfort, narrowing his eyes skeptically, mouth open slightly as he tried to think.

"Can I help you?" I asked the drunk carefully.

He grinned a toothless grin. "See, me and ma buddies over der were just wonderin' what a pretty girl like you is doin' in here?"

I shrugged casually. "My father is in the shop nearby, told me to wait in here so I didn't get cold."

Lie.

He raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. And is dat also why we don't recognize ya? We know everyone that comes in and out of dese bars missy, everyone 'xcept you."

"Well, I don't usually make it a pastime of mine to stop at bars-"

"And we also know most of da Everafters that live in dese parts, and none of dem are cute lil' blondes like you. So tell me, sweetie," he grabbed my wrist and gave me a wicked grin, "who you are and what you're actually doin' here. 'Cus I bet my bottom dollar you ain't an Everafter."

I fumbled for words, his bony hand a painful presence on my wrist, my heart beating too fast because it had been literally minutes and they had pretty much figured it out already. He knew it too, because his grin stretched, revealing gaps where teeth should have been, brown stubs where teeth still were.

The only thing I could think was that I had been a desperate idiot to come here.

And then there was a flash of silver and the man was screaming and I pulled back instinctively, breath hitching as I saw it. A knife, stabbed into his hand, the hand he had just been holding me with. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out another scream, backing away from me, cradling his hand against his chest with his other hand.

My wide eyes turned and there he was, in a skintight red and black outfit, adorned with a belt of pouches and two long knives strapped to his back. His mask was still on, covering his entire head, two white ovals where his eyes were hidden. No skin was to be seen, and to my eyes, he almost didn't seem human.

I had seen enough pictures and heard enough descriptions to know who it was. Deadnight.

"Oh, fancy meeting you here Charlie!" he said cheerfully as he sat down beside the still screaming man, patting him forcefully on the back.

Charlie looked up, expression a mixture of murder and agony. "Get it out! You sick bastard get it out!"

Deadnight tut-tutted, shaking his head. "That's not a very nice way of greeting me. And to think I made you cake yesterday."

"It was poisoned!" the man spit out between teeth gritted in pain, face contorting. It was painful to watch, but I couldn't look away.

"Everyone's a critic," Deadnight muttered. "But you see, here's the deal. You hurt my client. I hurt you. It's like a circle of life. Have you ever seen that movie? Lion King?"

He proceeded to sing _Circle of Life _to the man, who now had tears of pain leaking out of his eyes. I considered myself in the 'tough girls' category, but sitting there watching a man suffer didn't make me tough, it made me heartless.

"Pull it out," I said firmly.

The man stopped screaming long enough to fix me with an incredulous look. Deadnight's head roved to me and behind that mask, I wondered if he was shocked too.

"Excuse me honey, but this isn't any of your business," he said flatly.

"Yes it is. He was talking to me. So it became my business."

"That's not how it works. Rule number 87 clearly states that I can do whatever I want to anyone who interferes with my work and no one can stop me because it is my work and therefore my business."

"I don't care about rules. What you're doing is wrong and I'm telling you to stop."

Deadnight snorted loudly, gesturing to me vaguely. "Can you believe the nerve of this girl? Does she know who I am?" he said disbelievingly to Charlie.

"Please," he whimpered.

"Pull it out. Now."

Deadnight looked from me to Charlie and back to me, then to the knife in Charlie's hand. "Oh fine, ruin my fun then," he pouted, grabbing the hilt of the knife and yanking it out. Charlie screamed again, pulling his hand to his chest, and shooting Deadnight a horrible glare.

"Someday kid, you'll pay," he growled.

"Thanks for the info, I'll just store that away somewhere," Deadnight murmured off-handedly.

Charlie gave him another look of death before staggering out of the building, no doubt to some sort of hospital or something, Deadnight calling "Say hello to Barbara and the kids!" after him.

Now that the man was gone Deadnight's attention was on me. Which was probably not good, because even though I was playing 'stern commanding girl' a second ago, I was already wary of this guy. I could still see the knife soaring through the air and impaling Charlie's hand. Deadnight waltzing up without a care in the world. People said he killed for fun, which I didn't believe, but I wasn't having any trouble with that now.

I needed him though, so I was put in the tough position of hating to ask a monster like him for help or never seeing my parents again. But there was never a doubt in my mind of how far I'd go for my family.

"So, blondie, what makes you think you can storm in here and metaphorically rain on my parade of awesome?" he asked casually, propping his feet up on the table nearby where a couple was eating. Instead of glaring they just sort of scampered away. "Thanks guys!" Deadnight cooed happily.

I ignored his air of nonchalance and took a deep breath. "Well, two months ago my parents disappeared."

Before I could continue, he made a loud noise of disgust. "Boring," he groaned.

I glared at him. "This is my family's life at stake. It's not boring."

"It kinda is. But whatever, I'll let you continue. Consider it my good deed for the day. Because I care _so_ much about good deeds." He winked obnoxiously and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I didn't know how far I could go without setting him off. I wanted to appear confident, even though my heart was shaking like a Chihuahua, because the last thing I needed was for him to think I was some fragile thing that could be manipulated with a snap of his fingers. Because I wasn't (or at least hoped I wasn't). But then again, I didn't want to appear cocky and end up with a knife in my hand too. I had been warned to be careful around him, that he had a notorious temper and usually just killed those who set it off.

I tried to ignore this though and just continued. "As I was saying, two months ago my parents disappeared. Their car was found abandoned with no trace of struggle, only a red handprint on the windshield. The police searched as best they could, but no bodies or footprints or _anything _was found anywhere near the car.

"I've hired detectives, hunters, pretty much everyone and they've all come up with nothing. And so I came to you because apparently this is what you're best at."

He shrugged. "One of the many things I'm best at. I can also play a mean piccolo, if you want to hear it sometime."

I tried to keep an air of professionalism, although it was pretty hard. "No, thank you. I want to find my parents. I want to know who kidnapped them. I want to make sure nothing like this ever happens again."

"And I want a grilled cheese sandwich," he said thoughtfully, pulling a dagger out of nowhere and throwing it so it stuck into the wall right beside the bartenders head. He jumped fearfully and faced Deadnight. "What is it sir?"

"Grilled cheese. Pronto."

"But sir, we don't make grilled cheese," the man said shakily.

Deadnight leaned forward dangerously, and although he was a good twenty meters from the man, the tension was tangible. "I said grilled cheese."

"Y-yes sir."

The man scurried off and Deadnight clapped his hands together, turning back to me. I tried not to look too shaken and just stared into the empty white ovals. "Ok, sounds pretty easy, but I need to know a sum. Dollar amount. I work for money and revenge alone. But mostly money. Lots of money."

I had also been told that Deadnight had a crazy obsession with money, and was filthy rich with it. He was the best at what he did, so it was no surprise people went to him with huge amounts of coins and gems and all other valuable things. I turned out to be no different.

I reached into the folds of my huge jacket and pulled out a large, gray sack, placing it on the table. I could feel his eyes watching me as I casually undid the knot fastening it, revealing golden coins filled to the rim.

"Ooh, yummy yummy yummy," he purred, reaching for the bag. I pulled it away before he could.

"Excuse me?" he said dubiously.

"First you get me my parents. Then you get your money."

I could practically see his frown under the mask. "This is the part where me and my knives kindly remind you that _we _make the rules here, not you, girly. Rule number 302, never let the client become the master."

I shrugged. "I guess you don't want the money then," I taunted. It was a tough play. He could easily just kill me and take the money. If I were in his shoes, it's probably what I would've done. But people told me Deadnight enjoyed his job, reveled in doing it, in being the best, and so maybe he would get past my little money trick because he actually wanted to kill some people and find my parents.

I also heard he had a tremendous ego, so I pulled the pride card too. "And I furthermore guess you weren't as good as all those people made you out to be. How disappointing."

I made to stand up and walk away, but suddenly his hand was on mine, and it was strange because this being that was so cruel and so inhumane was just a normal body with a normal hand. I could even feel his pulse through the tight fabric covering his entire body.

"Fine fine, I'll play by your rules blondie. Consider yourself lucky I didn't skewer you instead. The idea was very tempting."

"I'm sure it was. But I'm also sure this means more to you," I said, brandishing the sack of money again before tying it up and putting it back in my jacket.

"Money. It is a weakness with me but to be fair, it is my _only _weakness."

I didn't respond, instead fixing him with a steely look. "When can you start?"

He leaned back, propping his head up with his hands. "Tomorrow morning. Meet me at my house and you can give me the details and locations and stuff from there. Got it?"

"I don't know where you live."

"Uh. Lame. I'll send my assistant to find you then and bring you to me."

"Assistant?"

"Yeah, she's nice. Makes my food. Cleans my clothes. Almost killed her once for looking at my money though. Risky little thing. But she keeps the house straight and she owes me her life because I killed her evil father so all's good."

I nodded slowly. "Ok. But she better be there. I don't think you understand how important this is to me."

"I doubt I would. Sentiment. Never did get how it worked."

I fixed him with a stare intense enough to get my message across. He was my last hope. My _only _hope. As much as I hated needing to stoop as low as accepting help from a monster like him, I'd do it as many times as I needed to if it meant getting my parents back. And if I couldn't get them back… I didn't know how I'd go on. How me, or my sister and brother staying at our grandmother's, would go on.

So, in the most confident and serious voice I could muster while still scared out of my mind because I was literally making a deal with the devil, I said, "Try to."

Before I could leave though, he grabbed my forearm, pinning it to the ledge near the fireplace and stopping me from walking away. He leaned his mask covered face close to mine, close enough that I was sure he could hear my heartbeat running wild in my chest. I had crossed the line. I was going to be killed.

"I don't know who you think you are, girly, coming in here and trying to act all macho and tough. But listen now, I will kill you in the blink of an eye if I have to. And I won't even care. I'll sleep like a baby. If you think you can order me around like your pet, talk sass to me, then you're wrong. You make one false move, say one thing I'm not sure I like, and boom." He used his other hand to motion shooting himself in the head. "You're gone. I don't have a conscious. I don't need to rescue your beloved parents. If I wanted to, I could kill you here and take the money from your cold, dead corpse. But I won't. Not yet. Because your little plea is interesting enough for me, and I'll let this one slide. But remember, I'm in charge. This is my game. You need me, but I could care less about you."

He let go of my arm, face still inches from mine. "Remember that. It might save your life."

Then the withheld anger was gone, the tension, the feeling that I was about to die, because he leaned back again and started whistling some catchy song. "That's all I have to say! See you tomorrow blondie! And don't lose my money."

I had to blink and literally swallow the panic rising in my chest before I could nod and start walking again, visions of a knife stuck in my head filling my mind. I heard him shout, "Yo Bernie! Where's my grilled cheese?" before I opened the door and was out in the freezing snowstorm again.

For a few moments I just stood there, breathing deeply, letting the heart-wrenching fear slowly subside. He had agreed to my deal. It had been close, but he had. And now only came one more thing- finding my parents. If he couldn't do it, then nobody could, or at least that's what everyone told me. I let out a shaky breath, watching it fog in the cold air, closing my eyes and trying not to think about the stress stacked up on my shoulders.

I was alone. Daphne and Basil were with Granny Relda, Daphne in a quiet, depressive emptiness that I couldn't watch without crying and Basil confused, constantly asking where mommy and daddy were. Granny Relda fumbling around in a lost manner because Henry was her son and she loved Veronica like a daughter, and she had lost them both in one night.

My family was broken. And it was up to me to fix them.

And I had just put all of our lives in the hands of a psychotic maniac.

Hopefully this all turned out better than I felt that it would.

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**First chapter complete! *insert obnoxious party horns***

**Ok, so there he is. Deadnight. AKA you know who. **

**We'll see some more of him next chapter, and another character we all know and love(hate).**

**Well, I have a weird soft spot for said character, so bear with me.**

**Until next chapter!**

**-anniepear**


	2. Hotels, Hotties, and Helmets

**Hello again world!**

**First of all, I just want to thank everyone who read and reviewed this story. The feedback was wonderful and better than anything I could have asked for.**

**So gracias amigos.**

**Secondly, here is chapter number two, where the character I have a weird soft spot for enters the story.**

***oooh***

**Sabrina: You literally have a soft spot for one of the worst characters ever.**

**Me: She's better in my story!**

**Sabrina: Whatever! She tried to kill me last story!**

**Me: Yeah you can think Michael Buckley for that**_**. **_

**Sabrina: I really don't like you.**

**Me: Aw thanks.**

**Disclaimer: Michael Buckley owns Sisters Grimm, not me. Bad things would probably happen if I did…**

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**Ch.2: Hotels, Hotties, and Helmets**

When I woke up in the cheap hotel, wrapped in cheap hotel blankets and hair still a little damp from my cheap hotel shower, I instantly knew something was wrong.

Someone else was here.

I sat up, almost giving myself whiplash in the process, and there she was. A fragile looking girl, probably my age, with long, dark hair and brown eyes that watched me through the darkness, was sitting calmly on the couch in the corner of the room. Picking at her nails and looking bored.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded loudly, anger boiling inside of me. And then fear. Was she coming to kidnap me too, just like my parents?

She looked up, surprised for a second that I was awake, and then her face settled back into a look of contempt. "Oh, you're awake. How nice."

I raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I am, now get out of my room."

She crossed one long leg over the other, abandoning her manicure to skeptically look at me instead. Her gaze made me shift a bit, not knowing exactly what how to react. She was in my room, without my permission, without a key, but at the same time didn't seem to mean any harm.

"You're quite the spunky one, aren't you? That's what he told me, but I didn't expect you to be so loud too," she said flatly.

"He? What?" And then it hit me. Deadnight's assistant. This was her.

"You work for Deadnight?"

The girl gave me a bored clap of congratulations. "Well done. You're not as stupid as he made you out to be."

I gave her a sharp glare and she just smiled back sweetly. "So, I'm assuming it's time to go to his house then," I said after a moment.

"Definitely smart," she said, standing up and stretching.

"How long have you been here?" I wondered aloud.

"Too long," was the vague reply.

She wandered off to the cheap hotel's cheap kitchenette, doing who knows what, but giving me space to pack my stuff up. Said stuff was only the essentials. Clothes, toiletries, my phone, a wallet full of as many dollars as I could fit and my credit and debit cards, weapons, a few books on the world of Everafters, a couple magical gizmos, my favorite stuffed animal Mr. Chunk, and the sack of coins meant for Deadnight. It all fit in one bag though, a booksack that looked tiny but was magically enhanced to store as much as a trunk.

It was a gift from some uncle of mine I'd never met in my life.

John? Joey? Jim?

Something like that.

When I had changed and was ready to go, book sack strapped to my back, I walked into the kitchenette, where the girl was sitting on the counter eating a muffin of some kind.

"Ready?" I asked.

She looked pointedly at the muffin. "Do I look ready?"

I rolled my eyes and leaned against the fridge, waiting, watching her eat with painstaking slowness. I couldn't help but wonder who she _really_ was. And my curiosity always got the better of me.

"What's your name?" I asked casually as she licked crumbs off her fingers.

"What's yours?" was the answer.

"Sabrina," I said honestly. No use lying, she'd probably figure out somehow anyway, and I doubted there would be many repercussions from sharing my first name with someone. Last name… that was a different story.

She studied me cautiously before shrugging. "Moth," she said.

"Nice to meet you Moth," I said, going for the pleasantries. She snorted at my extended hand and hopped down from the counter.

"Let's go," she said.

We took a quiet elevator ride back to the lobby, where I checked out and deposited my room key, and then I was back outside.

It wasn't snowing anymore, but thick white layers of the stuff covered the ground and everything else, and the air was still biting cold. I pulled my coat closer and followed the loosely dressed and seemingly unaffected Moth.

To my surprise she stopped beside a car, sleek and red and most likely expensive. "Your chariot awaits," Moth said, opening the door and getting into the driver's seat. I gave it a once over before hopping in too.

"He doesn't mind attracting attention then, does he?" I asked, gesturing widely to the car as Moth started the engine.

"You met him, and you still haven't figured that out?"

I guess it was pretty obvious. The drive to the house took about thirty minutes, thirty minutes of silence and the magical wonders of a heater. I had imagined the house being quiet, secret, tucked away somewhere where no one could see it. But considering I had just confirmed that he loved being the center of attention, I should've known better.

It was a mansion. A mansion in a forest on a rolling hill overlooking a lake. Or, in other words, the most beautiful house I'd ever seen.

"Out," Moth ordered while I was still gaping.

I got out hastily, waiting until Moth got out herself and began walking to the front doors to follow. The house was even more beautiful close up. At least four stories tall and all a polished white. Manicured gardens and fountains. A sparkling lake on to the elft, right underneath one of the many balconies. Amazing.

But during our walk to the front door was when I started to notice the little things. Marble statues with their heads cleaved right off, or better yet, with swords sticking into their stomachs. Big swooping oaks with bullseye's painted on to them and arrows sticking out. A Christmas tree decorated with little bombs instead of ornaments. A miniature Ferris wheel with carts full of mannequins that had grotesque smiley faces painted onto them. Two chimps casually tossing poop at each other.

At seeing each thing Moth groaned loudly. "I'm gone one night and he manages to wreck the place. One. Night."

The chimps looked up at her voice, and she glared at them both. "Henry! Carl! No throwing poop! Get outta here you pests," she yelled, and they scampered off, hooting in displeasure.

I decided not to comment, instead just following Moth silently until she opened the door. "I got her!" She yelled, voice carrying through the inside of the house, which was just as glorious as the exterior. A winding marble staircase led the way to the next story, doors on all sides of the room leading to the rest of the house. More marble statues (less of them abused) and small fountains decorated this room, an entryway of sorts. It was pretty much what I imagined a castle to look like.

Without warning, a door at the top of the staircase was flung open, and there stood a boy with a mop of blonde curls, bright green eyes, and a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

And he was in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Moth! Just the girl I wanted to see! I accidentally clogged the tub again."

Moth pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. "It wasn't an accident, so don't pretend that it was."

He threw his arms up with a dramatic flair. "Why do I even try with you! You're right, it wasn't an accident. You made me take a bath so I took the liberty of shoving all of your girly makeup and stuff down there."

Moth only looked a little mad, mostly just exasperated. I got the feeling that things like this had happened before. "I hate you sometimes."

"I hate you all the times."

She sighed loudly. "I'll clean it up after I clean up my yard, which you destroyed while I was gone."

"First of all, my yard, second of all, that was called fun, not destruction."

"You're version of fun is destruction moron."

He just grinned, plopping down on the stairwell and sliding down Mary Poppins style. He landed right next to Moth, tapping her lightly on the nose with his finger. "That's because destruction is fun silly."

I coughed loudly just then, successfully drawing both of their attention to me. "Excuse me, as fun as it is to watch this little argument of yours, I am here to see Deadnight, not you two. Could you please bring me to him? Now, preferably."

Moth put her face in her palm and the boy just smirked, popping out a dimple I hadn't noticed before. He walked up to me, spitting out the toothpaste in his mouth onto the floor and giving his tootbrush to Moth, who just rolled her eyes and put it in her pocket. "You're not too bright are you blondie?" he said.

It was the term blondie that gave it away.

"Wait, you're Deadnight?" I exclaimed.

His smirk widened into a grin, dimples more prominent now and even I had to admit they were adorable. "The one and only."

My expression must've been priceless, because his grin got big enough to show sparkling white teeth. "What, didn't expect me to be so good looking?" he said.

No, I guess I hadn't. Hadn't expected him to even look like a normal person. But here he was, flesh and all, and I couldn't deny that he was good looking. His wild golden curls bounced lightly on his head, framing a beautiful face like a curtain. His eyes were a vivid green, flecked with shades of the forest, shielded by long dark lashes. A heart shaped mouth complete with dimples and, from what I could see while he was wearing just a towel (which was a lot), a perfectly sculpted body.

But there were also the scars, trailing up and down his body, little ones and big ones alike that were almost everywhere. On his chest. On his arms. One even nicked above his eyebrow. Those scars reminded me of the truth, that he was a monster, a killing machine, and no amount of physical attraction would change that fact.

"No. Just wasn't expecting someone so cruel to actually be human," I answered cooly.

"Right you are!" he said cheerily. "That's because I'm not human. I happen to be a very awesome form of Everafter called a fairy." To complement the fact, two brilliant pink wings sprouted out of his back. I had already guessed as much though. Considering all the Everafters knew about him and no humans I asked did, I was assuming he was one of them. So I wasn't exactly surprised.

"Amazing. Now, can we get started or what?" I said firmly.

He rolled those green eyes, putting his hands on his towel covered hips. "Not like this we can't. I sorta have to get dressed. Unless you don't want me to," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

I just stood there, not reacting, face devoid of emotion. It seemed to annoy him, because he sighed in exasperation. "My humor is wasted on you two," he complained. I still didn't say anything and Moth just crossed her arms.

He huffed dramatically and stomped back up the stairs. "Give me a couple minutes!" he called out before slamming the door he had come from, leaving just me and Moth in the room.

"Well he's, uh, not what I expected," I said after a while.

"That's what most people say," she answered.

Silence, and then-

"Kinda like an overgrown baby," I commented.

She turned to me with a serious stare. "Don't make that mistake. He may act like one but this 'overgrown baby' can kill you without thinking twice about it. He's dangerous, and he hates it when people think otherwise." She pointed down at the rug beneath us. "He's killed people right here before too, clients that question him, insult him, annoy him. Don't become one of them."

I nodded, taking the advice to heart. "I won't."

"Good, because cleaning up dead bodies is not as fun as cleaning up a house. Take my word for it." She scrunched up her nose in distaste.

"Why do you work for him then?" I couldn't help but ask.

She let out a deep breath. "Because, when my stepfather tried to poison me to get me out of the way so he could inherit my dead mother's money, it was Deadnight that saved me. I didn't even know him then, but he suddenly came swooping down from the rafters proclaiming that my lamb chop was going to kill me. Apparently he had seen my stepfather poisoning it, and for some reason, decided to save me. He's weird that way. And I was in his debt."

I nodded, watching as she retold the story with a bitter frown. She suddenly sighed again. "And because I believe in him. That maybe someday he'll be a better person. Because I think, deep down, he can be."

That was a first. Everyone else dismissed the mercenary as beyond help, insane to a fault, a crazy killing machine. And here Moth was, saying she believed in a good part of him locked away somewhere. I didn't know if I agreed, but there was something admirable about her faith.

Then her expression turned wistful, and she let out another deep breath. "And because I love him. I've lived with him for two years and I've seen him at his best and at his worst and I know it's stupid but I love him."

I wondered if she'd ever told anyone else this. This small but beautiful girl who I hardly knew that had just confessed her deepest feelings to me. It was a testament to how little she probably saw and conversed with others that she was willing to share this with me. I may not have really known her, but I treated what she said like a treasure.

The sentimental, thoughtful, longing gleam in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had come as she seemed to realize what she had said. She glared at me with all her previous venom. "But he's a murderer and I'm hopeless. It's just stupid hormones anyway," she growled, crossing her arms and turning her back on me.

I chose not to say anything, not sure how to deal with what she had told me. Personally I thought it was stupid too. Deadnight hurt people for fun. He didn't deserve to be loved, and I hoped Moth would see that someday.

We both jerked back up as the doors on top of the stairs swung open and Deadnight walked out, in his skintight signature outfit again, except for his mask, which he was holding in his hand. "You'd be pleased to know that I washed my own uniform Mothy," he said proudly as he walked down the stairs, skip in his step.

"No I wouldn't. That probably means I need to fix the washing machine now."

"And the drier," he added helpfully.

"Didn't I tell you just to bring it to the dry cleaner's?"

"They stained it last time I went. Plus I killed the dude who did it so they kicked me out."

Moth rolled her eyes and I felt my mouth drop.

"You don't just kill people when they get you mad, ya know," I couldn't help myself from saying.

He turned and smiled at me. "In case you didn't notice, I sorta do."

"It's wrong."

"Says who? You? Listen, it's more fun to ride by your own rules, trust me. And if you're going to keep the gross moral stuff up, then I'm going to have to kill you too."

I felt myself shudder and shut my mouth. I hated being afraid of him, hated being afraid of anything, but I was.

He seemed to see that, and it made his smile stretch. "Good girl. Now, where were we. Oh yeah!" He grabbed two swords from a closet nearby, strapping them to his back, and then pulled on that pouch belt from before, filling it with an assortment of things, mostly weapons.

When he was done he flashed us a cheeky grin, patting his pocket. "Now that I'm doing using the little boy's closet, I think we're ready!" he announced.

And so he turned to me. "Have you got a location for me blondie?"

"It's some random road you won't know the name of it but it's in northern New York. Don't worry, I'll give you directions."

"I wasn't worrying. Tata for now, Mothypoo."

She just shook her head, but suddenly her eyes sparked with something and she paused. "Hey, Deadnight, can I give Sabrina something that'll help?"

He gave her a confused look. "Who's Sabrina?"

"Me," I said flatly.

"Oops, haha, don't be offended or you'll become the offender, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

He sighed and then nodded. "Yeah make it quick. I have parents to avenge."

I honestly had no idea what Moth was talking about, but I followed her upstairs to a small room I assumed was hers. It was painted a soft blue and white string lights were draped across the walls. But my attention wasn't on the room- it was on Moth's suddenly intense face.

"Listen, I just want you to know that people are out for him. I'm sure he knows and honestly he could care less, but sometimes he's not careful. If he's your last hope, which he probably is, then you'll want to make sure he's safe. Watch out for assassins. Don't stay anywhere shady. Just be careful."

I raised an eyebrow because really I could care less about the almighty Deadnight. But if it meant finding my parents, I would listen. So I nodded. "Alright, I'll make sure he stays out of trouble."

She sighed in relief, and again I was struck with the care she had for someone who didn't reciprocate it.

I was about to leave when she grabbed my wrist. "Oh, and keep this phone on you. You might need it," she said vaguely, pulling an old black phone out of her pocket and handing it to me. I took it after a moment's hesitation and stuffed it behind me into my bag.

"Why?" I asked suspiciously.

She pursed her lips. "Just trust me."

I didn't, but I nodded anyway. I was opening the door, preparing to leave, when she said one last thing.

"Puck."

I turned back around, and the confusion on my face must've been evident because she rolled her eyes. "What?" I asked.

"Puck. His name is Puck."

Deadnight, Puck, it didn't make a difference to me. But I suppose no one really knew his name, so maybe it was special that I did. Made me important.

Or at least I pretended it did, for Moth's sake, because she looked like she had just shared a big secret. And maybe to her it was. Maybe she was the only one who knew his name. And I couldn't help but think that that was a sad statement in itself.

"Thank you," I said, nodding gratefully before walking out. I jogged lightly down the stairs, seeing Puck standing there, flexing his muscles in the mirror.

When he saw me, he said, "Does this outfit make me look fat?" in a high pitched imitation of what I guessed was supposed to be a teenage girl.

"Yes, now come on," I said, walking out the door, Puck trailing behind me like a puppy. A puppy stocked to the brim with deadly weapons and the skills and guts to use them.

I walked towards the car, but hearing him laugh behind me made me stop. "What?" I asked.

"We are so not taking that piece of junk."

"It's not a piece of junk! And Moth told me you bought it," I said, annoyed.

"Maybe I did, but the past is the past. I never look back. No, we are taking this."

And so I followed him as he ran out, far too excited for his own good, to a big garage, which he opened with the voice password 'poop' (he sniggered and looked to see if I was laughing too. I wasn't). Inside was an assortment of vehicles, but it was the one that he ran to that I was focused on.

"No," I said immediately.

"Uh, who makes the rules here?"

So I closed my mouth again as he grabbed the silver and red motorcycle's handles and wheeled it outside.

"Safety first," he said, grabbing a bright blue helmet with butterflies painted on it from who knows where, probably one of his pouches.

"I am not wearing that," I said stubbornly, crossing my arms.

He looked perplexed. "You have to. Or you'll get hurt."

"Then why aren't you wearing one?" I challenged.

"Because I am an expert driver and therefore will never get hurt."

"Well you're the one driving this thing, and if you're such an expert driver, why do I need a helmet? Are you scared you're going to crash and hurt me?"

"I know I won't crash and even if I did, I wouldn't care if you got hurt."

"Then why do I have to wear it?"

"Because it'll protect you! You're my client and I don't let my client's get hurt!"

"We'll rule number 49 in the Client Book says that clients can make decisions when it comes to their safety."

"That's made up! You made that up!"

"Did not."

"Did too!"

"Did not."

He yelled in frustration, obviously not used to people disagreeing with him. I knew I was treading on thin ice, but hey, I had never been one to take orders well, even if they were from psychopaths.

"Fine! Don't wear it! But if you get hurt it's your fault!"

"Ok."

Still not satisfied, he threw down the helmet, marched into the garage, came back with a flamethrower, and torched the helmet until it was a puddle of melted plastic before throwing the flamethrower in the yard.

He then pulled his mask from one of his pouches and pulled it onto his face, hopping onto the motorcycle with ease.

"Get on," he commanded, and I didn't argue this time, heaving myself up with a lot less grace then him. He turned on the motorcycle, which growled beneath us, and backed it up slowly.

He then gunned the engine, purposely running over the puddle of helmet, and pulled out into the street. I was stunned by the sudden speed and, almost falling off, I reached forward and latched onto him, hands curling around his sculpted torso.

"Don't get too friendly with me Sophie," Puck shouted at me over the wind.

"It's Sabrina!" I shouted back.

And that's how our little adventure began, me clinging onto Puck desperately as he laughed into the air, going faster than any sane person would dare to. The only thing I could think was that I wished I had grabbed that helmet.

* * *

**And there it was folks. Chapter two.**

**The real story has (finally) begun and now I get to have fun with this.**

**Mwahahahahaha**

**-anniepear**


	3. Boogly's Beautiful Bar

**Aaaaand I'm back! I'm pretty proud of myself for managing to whip out a chapter a week so far. Or at least close to every week. I'm the biggest procrastinator on the face of the planet so I was not expecting my updates to even resemble the word 'consistent.'**

**Ok, chapter three here we go. And TQOS, I also love Deadpool, and while he wasn't a direct inspiration for this, looking at what I've written so far Puck does remind me of him. I didn't even realize that until now! Even their suits sound the same.**

**Dude, my mind is so obsessed with Deadpool that it made me subconsciously create a character just like him without me even knowing…**

**Weird.**

* * *

**Ch.3: Boogly's Beautiful Bar**

Things I learned from the motorcycle ride:

Never open your mouth while on a motorcycle, unless you want to eat every bug known to mankind.

Never go motorcycling in the winter because ice and wind will freeze not only your face, but your entire body.

Don't think you're good enough to ride without holding onto the person in front of you- you're not.

If you do not follow the statement above, you will fall into an agonizingly cold pile of snow and ice.

And so by the time the motorcycle stopped, I was freezing, coated in snow, my mouth tasted horrible, and my hair had never been knottier. Plus my back hurt from falling off. A lot.

"I wish you could've seen yourself fall. It was awesome. One second you were there and then the next you weren't. And then you were lying there all pathetically in the snow. Like I said, awesome," Puck laughed as he slowed down a bit, pulling to a stop.

"Do you even know how to drive?" I spat out once the engine turned off and I had lowered myself slowly and carefully onto the ground, ignoring his reenactment of my fall.

"Pssh, what would you call what I just did?" Puck replied, looking like he was as warm as a blanket in his stupid skintight suit even though there's no way he wasn't freezing to death.

"I call that suicide."

"Well maybe you should look up the word suicide instead of mistaking my awesome motorcycle skills for it."

"Yeah, ok," I muttered, attention focusing on the car as soon as I saw it.

"There," I said breathlessly. I had told the police to leave the evidence until I got it all figured out, and they had willingly agreed, not wanting to deal with towing a car anywhere through the snow. I ran forward, albeit pretty awkwardly in the heavy snow, and stopped beside the car. My car.

Just looking at it brought back painfully happy memories. Me and Mom's trips to the store which always ended with ice cream. Daphne and Basil singing off-key Adele from the backseat. Dad giving me the 'proper dating' talk in the front seat. Elvis barfing up sausages on the cushions. Granny Relda not knowing how to work the air conditioner. Now it was just a reminder of how all of that was missing. Maybe permanently.

"What an ugly car," Puck said, snapping me out of my reverie.

"It's not ugly, it's cozy," I responded defensively, still staring at it.

"No, it's ugly. Just like that duckling. Now, hush hush as I do my inspect-y thing," he said sternly.

I stood back, giving him room, not sure what was going on. He tapped the car's window twice, opened up the door with some piece of metal in one of those pouches, did a bit of scuffling around inside of the car, climbed on top of it, listened to the roof (literally pressed his ear to it and just sat there listening), and then brushed the snow off the windshield.

There it was, the bright red handprint, a vivid contrast from the pale snow surrounding it. It seemed to burn through the ice, a sign of all of the turmoil that my family had been put through.

Puck looked at it suspiciously, pulling up his mask enough to reveal his mouth, and licked it. "Not blood," he confirmed.

He licked it again, and I almost thought he was just joking with me. But he sounded dead serious, so I let him continue.

"Paint," he said after a while, licking it one last time.

"Everafter paint."

"Everafter paint?" I asked, clueless.

"Everafter paint. It's a special mix that will never rub off once it's applied. Whoever did this wanted this sign to be seen, wanted it to be remembered."

He trailed off thoughtfully, and now that he wasn't talking about killing or being completely irritating, I was actually paying rapt attention to what he was saying.

"What's that mean?"

"It means that whoever did this was an Everafter, with something against your family or specifically your parents, and whoever it was thought _that_ red handprint would mean something to you."

Without warning he took off his mask, tossing it onto the hood, green eyes ablaze against his skin, which had turned pale in the cold besides the flush of his cheeks.

"Tell me, Sarah, what's your last name."

"Sabrina," I corrected, trying to keep the conversation light, not wanting him to find out.

"Sarah Sabrina? What kind of name is that?"

"Sabrina is my first name," I said.

"Oh. Sorry. Old noggin decided to take a nap," he said with a weird grin, tapping his skull. Then his eyes were fixed on me again, and I tried not to squirm under the gaze. "So, if Sabrina's your first name then what's your last one?"

"Why does it matter?" I said, trying to draw the attention away from me, stall while I could so I had time to think of a plan.

"Because I said it does," he hissed, and suddenly joking Puck was gone, and here was serious Puck, scary Puck, the one that sent shivers up my spine. He took a gun out of one of his pouches and let it hang by his side, a visible threat.

I gulped. There was no way out of it. He'd know if I was lying, and even if he didn't, when he found out he would no doubt kill me on spot. So I took a deep breath and decided to face the situation head on.

"Grimm. Sabrina Grimm."

There was no reaction at first, then he pulled the gun in one swift motion up to my face. I felt my entire body freeze, and it had nothing to do with the cold.

"Are you lying to me?" he asked, tone dangerous.

I shook my head.

The moment lasted for a second longer, and then the gun was stuck back in his hilt and his face broke into a smile and he was looking positively joyous.

"Why didn't you just say so? Would've made this whole thing a lot easier!"

I was confused, so instead of answering I just said, "What?"

"You're a Grimm. Tons of Everafters hate you! There's a whole _rebellion_ against you for poop's sake! This makes my job a lot, lot simpler."

"Explain."

He was too excited to get annoyed that I was ordering him around. "You see, I'm what they call a mercenary. I work for hire. I don't care what my job is or who I'm hurting, as long as I get the money and do what I want with the money and no one touches my client. So, naturally, I've had a lot of Grimm haters hire me over the years. As a matter of fact, I'm there assassin of choice when they need to get someone taken care of. All I need to do is go to my little buddies and ask about this red hand and they'll probably know exactly who it is!"

It made sense, but I wasn't so keen about the 'go around asking evil Everafters about red hands' part.

"Are you sure? What if someone knows we're asking for reasons against them? What if they, I don't know, kill us?"

"First of all, don't use the term us. Signifies a team. We are not a team. Second of all, no one can kill me. No one. Third of all, you're kinda doing the fun stomping thing again."

"Oh I'm sorry, should I just let us waltz in and demand to know where my parents are, because that won't be suspicious at all?" I snapped back.

"No, you _shouldn't_ talk to me in that tone and you _should_ trust me! Besides, if you're going to stomp on people's fun, at least get bigger feet."

He cracked himself up, pointing to my feet and saying something about 'what a classic' and 'her feet are tiny' before I managed to reel him in again from his insane babbling.

"Trust you? You're a violent maniac who kills for fun! None of those qualities are exactly trustworthy."

He stepped closer to me, voice getting louder. "Don't label me and don't insult me and don't you dare question what I do. I do what I do because I can, and it pays well, and I don't give a donkey's ass about what people think of me. There are two types of people: annoying ones that deserve to die and ones who pay or don't annoy me that deserve to live. Right now, you're getting awfully close to the wrong line."

"Have you ever stopped to think of what line you're on? Whether you deserve to die!"

I knew I'd said too much, but his initial reaction wasn't what I had expected. Something flashed over those emerald eyes, something I almost thought was hurt, and for a second I actually felt bad. And then his face exploded in anger. He took his gun out, aimed it at my head, and I could feel my life flashing before me.

But something overcame him, and he threw the gun down, stomping on it violently, face twisting in unreadable emotions. Then he threw down his swords too, his daggers, ripped off his entire pouch belt and kicked it angrily into the snow. He gave a last shout of fury, of pain, and then stomped into the forest surrounding the road, dropping down to his butt in the snow and leaning against a tree.

My heart was ricocheting off of my ribcage because holy Jesus Christ, I had just broken him. I didn't know what to do, how to react, but some tiny part of me softened a bit. What I had said was harsh. No one, maybe not even him, deserved to hear it. So I methodically began picking up his stuff, brushing it off, the slow movements helping calm me down. I stacked everything on the hood of the car, next to his mask, and sat there for a bit, hoping he'd come out.

He didn't. So I took the lead.

I approached him slowly, carefully, like one might walk up to a wild animal. That's what he was, wasn't it? He was sitting there, face in his palms, breathing deeply, fingers digging into his cheeks and leaving red marks.

"Deadnight?" I asked cautiously.

He didn't respond.

"Deadnight?" Nothing.

I sighed, and remembering Moth, decided to take the chance. I couldn't make things any worse, could I? A sudden image of my own dead body leaking red into the snow proved that statement wrong, but I went for it anyway.

"Puck?"

His head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed. "How do you know that name?"

I just shrugged, not wanting to throw Moth under the bus and possibly sign her death warrant.

"Listen, Puck, about what I said-"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said flatly.

"Puck," I started.

"No. You kicked my butt with your stupid morals and feelings. Congratulations. But I'll have you know your little sentiments don't apply to me. They did once, but not anymore. Maybe I do deserve to die, maybe some people I kill don't, but do I care? No. So don't make me think that I do."

"Please, just listen-"

"Stop!" he shouted, and I backed up instinctively. He caught the action, and where I expected it to make him grin, he actually frowned a bit.

"I am heartless. I am cruel. Everyone knows it. I know it. And that's not changing." Was he talking to me or to himself?

"Would you just-"

"No. Playtime is over. I have a job to do, and if your meddling emotions get in my way I will have to end you. No refunds. I hate refunds."

He stood up briskly, wiping snow off of his outfit, and started walking back to the road. Well, it seemed I was out of the storm for now. I knew his anger could come back at any time, but for the moment, he was back to his usual state of distanced lunacy.

Only I wasn't back to my usual state of loathing. I kept thinking about the fact that he could've killed me, should've killed me, right there, but didn't. About the sudden flash of anger, throwing all of his weapons to the ground, that was just a defense to what must've been hurt. An actual feeling. And inside of me I felt something hatch, something dangerous yet hopeful, something the rest of me didn't agree with. I still hated him, yes, but it was there- sympathy, and the inkling of a thought that he wasn't lost, that he wasn't passed saving, that he was capable of feelings too.

I wondered if that's how it started for Moth, a little niggling of care that grew into something more.

I refused to think about it though, because this wasn't Sabrina's quest to save a horrible person from wrong, but Sabrina's quest to find her parents. And when I put Puck next to that desire, he meant nothing at all.

And of course, my sympathy didn't last long, because when I walked back to the car Puck was there, clad in all of his gadgets again, holding a dead deer. "Look what I just found!" he said, perfectly resembling two year old who had found a toy. Except it wasn't a toy, it was a bloody sack of animal.

"That is sick and disgusting. Put it back."

"No! We can cook it!"

"Stop."

"Perfect for the Christmas season, a little Rudolph stew!"

"You're horrible."

"That's what they tell me."

"Yeah well, they're right."

He gave me a wicked little grin. "Careful what you say Grimmie. I could get a pretty pile of pennies for your head on a silver platter. And if you keep this up," he pretended to slit his throat with his finger, "I might just have to bring my Grimm-haters a special Christmas delivery."

And there it was, the harsh reminder of exactly why I hated him so much. My sympathy would have fun trying to survive in that whirling pool of contempt and fear.

I must've had some outward reaction too, because he laughed a bit before tossing the deer to the ground. "You're so weak. It's amusing."

"I am not weak! I happen to consider myself pretty tough, for your information," I snapped.

"I'm sure that's what the deer said too."

He giggled at his own joke before throwing the deer to the ground and pulling his mask on. For a moment I wondered how it was so easy for him, to go from a raging mess right back to a cheerful maniac in the course of minutes.

"Climb aboard," he said in imitation of someone talking over a speaker, pulling himself onto the parked motorcycle and patting the spot behind him. "This spot right next to my butt is calling your name Sasha."

"Sabrina," I muttered irritably as I climbed up, grabbing onto him despite wanting to be as far from him as possible.

"Where are we going?" I asked before he could start up the engine.

I could practically see his grin. "Boogly's Bar. To meet a few of my not-so-friendly friends."

"Fantastic," I said under my breath as the engine revved up and we started sailing forward. I tried not to think about the car, one of the only real tokens of evidence, of help, of memories, that was quickly vanishing behind us. Just like my parents had. Just like my hope was.

Turned out Boogly's Bar wasn't too far away. But even a second could feel like a long time with chips of ice slapping your face and the wind shouting in your ears. Puck managed to sing a very twisted and disturbing version of "Wheel's On the Bus" eleven times before we arrived, and thank goodness we did, because I didn't think I could hear about human intestines on the bus going squish squish squish one more time.

The drive brought us into a small, rundown city I'd never seen before. Old wooden and stone buildings coated with snow, people shuffling about with cloaks wrapped around them, a man in the corner yelling something about free firewood.

"Where are we?" I asked as Puck parked the motorcycle, which looked drastically out of place against the dull colors of the city.

"An off the charts Everafter city. For those who didn't want to adapt to human life and are living out here, separated."

He hopped off the motorcycle, clicking his heels in the air, and adding way-too-pleased sounding "They are terrified of me here," to his statement.

"Great," I muttered, following Puck to a small wooden building with a sign that read 'Boogly's Bar.' He opened the door with a flourish, stepping in and letting it slam in my face. I bit my lip in frustration and pulled open the door for myself.

Inside was surprisingly nice. A warm fire cackled in the corner, wooden tables were filled with people eating and talking, and against the wall was a bar counter where a man was cleaning out beer mugs. Everyone looked up for a moment at Puck, who was standing there in all his glory as Deadnight, and I could see the uneasy fear that shone on their faces as they recognized him. They all hastily looked back down at their food, trying to continue conversation without looking too scared.

"You smell that?" Puck whispered.

"No."

"That's the smell of fear."

"And that makes you happy?"

"Sweetheart, I live off of the smell of fear." He walked forward, going immediately to the bar, where he sat down with a humph. At his arrival, the bar man scurried over. "Anything I could do for you Deadnight?"

"For starters, don't look at me. Your face is horrid."

The man just smiled and laughed nervously.

"I wasn't joking," Puck said softly.

The smile vanished and the man looked at the counter instead of Puck.

"Secondly, you could make me one of those zappy drinks that always come with a cherry."

"Zappy?"

"Yeah, it's like a furry temple or something."

"Shirley Temple," I said quietly, and Puck snapped in excitement.

"That's it! Shirley Temple. And lastly, have you seen Thorner lately?"

The man, who was busying himself with making the drink as fast as possible, looked up. "Thorner? Last time I saw him he was bringing some weapons to you-know-who. Told me he'd be back today and stop by to tell me the progress of the operation."

Operation? You know who? What was that all about?

"Got it. Stella, your job is looking for him. I'll be chilaxing here."

"What!" I said indignantly.

Puck grabbed his Shirley Temple from the man, took a sip, and let out a satisfied 'ah.' Then he nodded. "You heard me. Go on, go on," he encouraged.

"I don't even know what he looks like!"

"Oh, you'll know when you see him. He's big and tattoo-y and horrendously hideous, which you should relate to. Now off you go!"

I wanted to slap him. But I didn't. Instead I walked away, ignoring the bartender's anxious glances, and sat down at a table near the door to keep watch. Ten minutes later, no one else had come in, so I ordered some fries and a root beer. And kept watching.

Then I felt the table bend as someone sat down beside me. I looked up to see a boy, probably about seventeen, a year older than I was, sitting there smiling at me.

"Hello beautiful," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "If you're going to flirt, at least don't be use such a cliché pick up line."

He smirked. "Oh, I apologize. What about the old 'did you fall from heaven, because you look like an angel' one?"

"Worse."

He laughed. "Can I buy you something to eat? You downed those fries pretty fast- you must be hungry."

I grinned. "Getting better."

He raised a hand and shouted "Hey waiter!" turning back to me as he waited for someone to arrive.

"So, what brings you here?" he said.

"Business. Nothing fun," I answered.

"Well that's too bad. If you wanted, I could help you find something fun to do," he said with a suggestive grin. I was about ready to tell the guy to beat it because that had gone from pleasant to creepy in less than a minute.

I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, the waiter arrived.

Only it wasn't the waiter. It was Puck, in his Deadnight suit, with an apron tied around his waist.

"You called?"

The boy looked up with a smile, preparing to order me something, but he paled when he saw Puck.

"Uh- what-"

"You want to know our specials for the night? We have burgers, chicken tenders, and a certifiable beating if you don't leave now."

"I didn't, I don't-"

"Or a knife in the stomach, or a gunshot to the head, or a dagger in your heart."

Puck laughed lightly, before he suddenly leaned in. "I think you get the point, but if not, let me clear it up for you. You so much as look at her again, and you die."

The boy made a gurgling noise of fear, eyes big as saucers, before he stood up and left, fast as he could, dashing to the door which swung closed behind him. Puck watched the door for a few moments before untying his apron and tossing it onto the table.

"Success is sweet," he said.

I looked up, angry. "What was that for?"

"He was offending you. No one offends my clients but me."

"I can take care of myself."

"Oh can you now? Is that why you were off flirting with a stranger instead of doing the one job I told you to?"

"I wasn't flirting! I was about to tell him to leave before _you _stepped in! And besides why do you care? It's not like we're a team," I shot back, using his comment from earlier against him.

"I don't care if you were flirting or not, the point is, you could've missed Thorner entering because you weren't. Paying. Attention."

"I was!"

"You obviously weren't!"

We both stopped when the door opened suddenly, and I whipped my head up instantly. The man who entered was tall, thickly muscled, tattooed, and had a long sword tucked into his belt. Judging by the bad feeling I got in my stomach looking at him, the fear, I had a hunch that I knew who it was.

Thorner.

He turned to me, raising an eyebrow as I continued watching him, for some reason unable to tear my gaze away. "What you staring at girly?"

"I- uh, he's here to see you."

The man looked confused. "Who?"

"Deadnight," I said, nodding to the side of me. Where no one was. I wanted to scream at him for leaving me with the man alone, but suddenly Thorner's calm, intimidating presence dropped, and a look of panic that seemed very out of place on him filled his face.

"Deadnight? Where?"

He backed up, reaching for his sword, but suddenly Puck was there, behind him, and he tapped the man's shoulder.

Thorner made a small noise and whipped around, backing my way this time to get away from Puck.

"Boogedyboo," Puck said, daggers in hand. "Miss me Thorny?"

"What do you want?" Thorner asked nervously, eyes darting to the side, no doubt looking for some sort of escape.

"Really? No hello? No nice to see you? I thought our relationship meant more than that to you," Puck said with a pout.

"Last time I saw you you almost killed me!"

"That's because you sold me out for helping Marcel!"

"Because he was working against our operation!"

Suddenly Puck was inches from the man, the dagger in his right hand pushed right up against Thorner's neck, a small drop of blood trickling down from the blade.

"I am a mercenary," he whispered. "I do what I want for who I want for however much I want. Did you seriously think I would decline an offer like Marcel's?"

"I expected you to show an ounce of loyalty! At least to me! You've helped me countless times before, and I've helped you too!"

"Loyalty? Puh-lease. You almost sound as bad as her," he said, jerking at dagger at me. "Now, how about we take this little talk somewhere else. Somewhere where they won't hear you scream."

Thorner visibly paled and I could envision Puck grinning beneath that mask at the sight.

"Go back to your petty little lives people! None of you will be dying today!" Puck announced suddenly.

Everyone else in the bar, who had been watching the loud exchange tensely, breathed a visible sigh of relief.

"Or will you," Puck added, voice betraying his smirk, and I could see the panic rush back to their faces in a flash. He grabbed Thorner by his coat and dragged the man through a door in the back, and I said a rushed "sorry" to everyone in the bar before chasing after him.

* * *

**Again, I love you all so much for taking the time to read this story! It's been a butt-load of fun to write.**

**And I finally cleared up Sabrina's age! Whoop whoop! I had forgotten to the last chapter but now you all know- sixteen! Puck's the same age, or looks the same age at least… you know what I mean.**

**Thanks to all those reviewers and readers! Love you guys!**

**-anniepear**


	4. The Interrogation

**Sorry this update took a bit longer. My bad! (so much for my consistency…)**

**And I was wondering if you guys didn't like last chapter that much, because it didn't get as many reviews as the previous two. Just wondering!**

**Ok, let's do this thing.**

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**Ch.4: The Interrogation**

The room was really dark, and as soon as the door closed behind me, I couldn't see anything.

"What the-" I heard Thorner grumble, and then a blazing white light from one of those cheap desk lamps was shining down on him, where he was tied up in a chair, the only article of furniture in the room. Puck was standing behind the light, hands on his hips, and I behind him, still blinking from the burst of light.

"How'd you tie me up so fast?" Thorner asked incredulously, shifting in the ropes bound around his waist.

"Skills."

"Where'd that light come from?" I asked.

Puck patted his pouches lightly.

"How much stuff do you cram in there?"

Puck gave an annoyed groan. "I'm the interrogator here, not you two! Now be quiet."

He then picked up the desk lamp and aimed it at Thorner, who was still blinking, like me.

"So, Thorny, what was your most recent mission?"

Thorner swallowed thickly. "You already know. What's the point in saying it again?"

"Because I told you to, and I like to hear the facts _directly _from the person I'm questioning. And because I said so. Now spit it out."

The man shifted uncomfortably, glancing towards me, then spoke. "I was delivering weapons. To you-know-who. Up in his base in the mountains."

"Mmhmm. And what is the name of this you-know-who?"

Thorner bit his lip. "You know who! And we're not allowed to say his name, or code name rather. He'll kill me if he knows I did."

"Well _I'll_ kill you if you don't tell me now. So go on, don't hold back."

Thorner sighed and hung his head. "Mirror. The Mirror."

I couldn't help but snort. Really? The name of a super evil mastermind was Mirror?

"Nice name," I said.

"Code name! No one knows his real name," Thorner said defensively.

Puck gave me the _shut up, my interrogation _look, and I pursed my lips. "And how would you describe him? This Mirror character?" he drawled, bringing the desk lamp closer to Thorner's face.

"You've met him!"

"I'M INTERROGATING SO ANSWER MY QUESTIONS!"

"Ok, ok. Well, he, uh, he's like a spider, ya know? In the middle of this big web, this big criminal web. And all of the little strings are all of his different sources, organizations, and he knows how each one works, exactly how to pull it to get what he wants. He sits on a throne of control and manipulation and that's exactly the way he likes it."

"Nice. Very poetic. Now, do you know all of the various criminals and cults and groups he controls?" Puck asked after a moment of silence.

"Deadnight, I can't say, he'll find out, you know that-"

"Answer my question or you die." His voice was void of anything even resembling pity.

Thorner once again looked at me, maybe hoping I'd help him, but I stayed a statue of indifference.

"Fine. Yes, I know all of them. Well, most of them at least."

Puck put the desk lamp in my hands and started pacing. "Good. What can you tell me about a cult that sports a red hand as their logo? Symbol. Whatever you call it."

Thorner paled, looking at his body tied in the ropes, and gulped. "Well, that's his special little group. He runs it personally. It's a pretty big deal too. Has a bunch of supporters, getting more each day..."

"Continue."

"Well, they specialize in war. Assassinations. World domination. Stuff like that. They believe that Everafters should be in control of the world, not humans, and they'll do anything to make it that way."

I could feel my stomach tighten at his words. I knew some Everafters were indifferent towards humans, but I didn't know it was at the level of world domination and whatnot. Things were worse than I thought.

"Is that who you were bringing the weapons to? Is that the operation you were working on?"

Thorner didn't answer, so Puck pulled out his daggers again, twirling them around his fingers, a silent warning.

"Y-yes," Thorner said quietly.

"And tell me, what exactly is this specific operation about?"

"Paving the path. Clearing the way to our war. Everafters against humans. A war we will win. But there's a catch, and that catch is the point of the operation."

Puck paused, taking a few steps backward so he was right in front of Thorner.

"What is it? What's the catch?" he said, voice low.

"Well you see, Baba Yaga, that same witch who made that dome over Ferryport all those years back, gave a prophecy, not too long ago. She said that Everafters would never be able to rise to power, to fight and defeat the humans, as long as _they_ were alive."

"As long as who were alive?"

"The Grimms."

And then my stomach dropped, and I had to lean against the wall for a moment, because this man had just said that a whole operation, a whole criminal organization, was bent on wiping out my family line.

Not something you hear every day. Not something you _want_ to hear every day. Or ever, for that matter.

Puck didn't move, besides shifting his dagger a little. "And how's that going?" he asked, voice betraying nothing.

Thorner's voice was quiet and I held onto his every word. "We've got the parents. They're rebellious though, keep trying to break out. We need them for information though, so we have to keep them alive. Barely alive still counts as alive though, which you of all people should know."

He ended the statement in a gruff, bitter laugh, but it wasn't funny, because this was my parents he was talking about. Should I be relieved that they were alive? It was hard though, when I felt sick to my stomach at the words 'barely alive.' When I had to cover my mouth to stop the whimper I felt rising, the bile.

"And the others?" Puck asked after a second.

"We have eyes on the grandmother and the two youngest, but they're not going anywhere, so we're not worrying about them for now. We'll grab them later. No, right now we're tracking the uncle, Jake I think, and the older daughter. She's pesky though, keeps moving around. Can't a good read on either of them. But when we do," he laughed darkly, "they'll wish they had never been born."

My heart was racing and I was sure they could hear it, but I didn't move. Didn't talk. Didn't breathe.

They were looking for that uncle I'd never met.

They were looking for me.

He was next.

I was next.

"What are they called? The organization?" Puck asked, voice far too casual compared to my thumping heartbeat.

Thorner looked up, eyes cold. "They are known as the Scarlet Hand. And they're not to be messed with."

The words were heavy in the darkness, until Puck stood straight and walked over to the wall, where he flipped on a light switch, illuminating the room with yellow light. He took the desk lamp from my shaking hands and placed it on the ground, turning it off by kicking it harshly.

I looked up, taking deep breaths to calm down. "There were lights in this room and you instead used an obnoxious desk lamp as our only source of lighting? Really?" I breathed, trying to seem unaffected by the news I had just heard.

Puck shrugged. "Makes for a cooler interrogation. And, seeing as _that's_ over-"

He pulled out his gun casually, fixing it right on Thorner's forehead. The man's eyes widened in panic as he tried to scrabble away, ropes keeping him in place.

"Say bye bye Thorny!" Puck cooed, finger pulling the trigger. I don't know who screamed first, me or Thorner, but it was me who moved first. I jumped forward, swinging my arms at Puck, hand connecting with his right as I heard the sound of the gunshot.

For a few moments I thought I'd been too slow, thought the shot had hit its mark, thought I had just witnessed a man die.

But then I heard heaving gasps to my side and saw him sitting there, white as a sheet, face slack with shock and terror. I turned to Puck, who was looking at the hole in the wall right next to Thorner's head. The bullet that had missed because of me. When he seemed to process what had happened, he turned on me.

"What did you just do?" he demanded furiously.

"You can't just kill people! He gave us the information we needed, there's no need for him to be dead!"

I couldn't see Puck's face through the mask, but I could guess it wasn't too happy. "I got what I wanted from him and he's exceeded his use. I don't need him anymore! Therefore, he dies!"

He pulled his gun up again and aimed it at a shaking Thorner.

"Sure you don't _need _him, but that doesn't give you the right to just shoot him! He might have a family, children, people who care about him. And even if he doesn't, he has a life to live, one you can't just take away willy-nilly!"

"Does it look like I care about those who will mourn for him? Does it look like I care if he has a 'life to live'?" he spits out mockingly. "I already told you, I play by my own rules, not yours, not anyone's!"

"I'm the client! And I demand you leave him alive. You can't ignore your client' wishes."

"I can if they're stupid wishes! I can if my client is an annoying fun-ruiner who just gets in the way!"

"No you can't. Rule 89," I said, choosing a random number.

"Made up!" he shouted.

He didn't move the gun, and I could see his finger itching at the trigger, so I did the only thing I could think of. I stepped in front of Thorner.

"Get out of my way," he growled.

"No. If you want to kill him, you have to kill me."

And so I looked down the barrel of his gun, my entire body quaking, because I knew, I just knew he would shoot me. I expected him to. I was positive of it. It was in his nature. So what was I doing? Why did some part of me, that little seed of hope, insist that he wouldn't do it?

I stared at those white ovals instead of eyes, unmoving, as his finger moved closer to the trigger. I closed my eyes as I watched it get pulled. I felt nothing as I heard the shot fire.

And even after it fired, nothing. Nothing hurt. Nothing but my ringing ears. I risked opening my eyes and wasn't looking at a gun anymore. I was looking at Puck's back as he threw open the door and stormed out. I was looking at the gun lying discarded on the floor. I was looking at the gunshot that had pierced the floor. That had missed me. That hadn't been aimed at me. That hadn't killed me.

He hadn't killed me.

For the second time in just this day I had looked down the length of his gun and been spared. For the second time I had expected death and lived. For the second time I couldn't help but wonder...

I walked numbly over to the gun, kicking it lightly, and then turned around to face Thorner. He was staring at me with a look that was nothing short of awe, mouth dropped open.

"How- why?"

"I don't know. Here, let me help."

Not wanting to face Puck yet and deciding I couldn't leave him tied up, I began untying Thorner. I worked with hands that were slowly beginning to stop trembling.

"How'd you do it?" Thorner asked as I unfastened the knots.

"Do what?"

"Stop him. Stop him from killing me, killing you."

"I played the client card. He doesn't hurt his clients."

Thorner snorted. "I was his client once missy. If I had done that, if I had dared do something that _stupid_ around him, I would've been killed without a blink. So would everyone else, all the other clients he's ever had. You don't question Deadnight. You don't get in his way. You don't go between him and his kill. And if you do, you die. I've seen him kill people for less reason than that. And yet you're still alive."

I let his words sink in as I undid the ropes. I _was _still alive. And if Thorner was right, I shouldn't be.

Why was that? What made me different?

But more importantly, what made him stop? Because it wasn't like him to. Cruel, heartless, insane Puck would've left me there dead on the floor.

Before I could dwell on it further, the ropes were untied, and Thorner stood up, stretching sore limbs. "Thanks," he grumbled softly.

Here I was, receiving thanks from a man who was part of an organization that wanted to kill me. He smiled gratefully and patted my shoulder lightly before following Puck out the door, leaving me alone with the gun. The only thing I could think was that maybe people weren't always what they seemed. Maybe they just needed the chance, the trust, to be better.

And then I walked out too, into the now quiet bar, which was much less crowded than it had been when I entered. So it wasn't too hard to find Puck, bent over another Shirley Temple at the counter. No one was paying attention to him, either not noticing his presence or too drunk to- even the bartender was nowhere in sight- so he had taken off his mask, his protection, his identity, and laid it on the bar, where it could stare up at his face. A face that was brooding, eyebrows crunched up, eyes burning ember fires, mouth a thin line interrupted by teeth that were gnawing at his lips.

And for the first time ever, Deadnight looked lost.

But not angry, not capable of killing at the moment, so I decided to go out on a limb and walk up to him. When he didn't react, I even went as far as to sit down beside him, not saying anything, just sitting.

Eventually, he spoke. "No one has ever had the guts to defy me. To do something like that. No one has ever even tried."

I looked over at him, and he looked so confused, eyebrows drawn in and eyes stormy, that I felt sympathy quell up inside of me again.

"Well someone had to eventually," I responded softly.

His eyes flashed, and he looked down before looking back at me, those green orbs pinning me to the spot. "Don't. Don't do it again."

He looked angry, furious, but when I looked past that... I swear there was a part of him that looked scared, frightened of what, I don't know. But before I could figure it out, he took one last sip of his Shirley Temple, pushed it away, and stood up. He walked out the doors wordlessly, and I sighed, worn out with dealing with him, with his mood changes, personality changes, his confusing demeanor. Worn out with my own emotions as I tried to peg him down as evil but just couldn't, because something was off. Worn out with everything.

And it had only been a day.

I stood up, about to follow him out, when I noticed he had forgotten his mask. I grabbed it before following him slowly. It was dark outside, the sun having set long ago, and a soft snow was falling. Puck stood in the middle of it, and I walked up to meet him.

"Here, you left this," I said.

He looked down at the mask in my hands, that confused look back, before grabbing it and pulling it on, effectively sealing me off from whatever emotions he was feeling.

"Come on, let's find an inn to spend the night at. I'm pooped."

I didn't even argue, instead crossing the street with him, stopping at this place called the 'Braying Donkey,' and treading up the stairs wearily. The room was nice, small but cozy, and definitely warm. I seized the shower first thing, letting the warm water soak my tired body, and pulled on a pair of baggy pajamas. It wasn't until I was back in the main room that I noticed it.

There was only one bed.

And Puck was already sitting on it, still in his suit, besides the mask, and watching some show called 'World's Cutest Animals.' He greeted me with a mumbled, "nice to see you again ugly," which pretty much meant his shields were up again. Which pretty much meant we wouldn't be talking about the little episode that had just happened again, at least not today, not now. As elusive as everyone talked about him being, I thought I had that aspect of him pretty sorted out. He tip toed around those problems about him, pretending as if they never happened.

A defense mechanism, I was sure. To hide from real feelings..? Why?

But I didn't feel like worrying about him right now, not when I was still convinced I didn't even care about him. The only thing I was concerned about was the soft bed that was already claimed.

"You see that duck? I ran over one just like that not two weeks ago," Puck said, pointing to the TV at the duckling that was waddling across it.

"Brilliant."

"The noise they make is priceless."

"Pretty sure it's not."

"Pretty sure you wouldn't know if it was or not."

"Pretty sure it's not."

"You're no fun," he said, turning to stick his tongue out at me. That's when he noticed me staring at the bed. He grinned widely.

"Oh, do you expect me to give this baby up? I think not. No way am I sleeping on a floor or something. I happen to be above that sort of thing."

"Oh, are you now," I said, concealing a yawn, which made him laugh.

"You are going to be _so_ tired tomorrow, because trust me, you'll probably sleep _terribly_ on the floor."

"Glad to know you're compassionate," I grumbled irritably. He was a pain in the butt.

"I thought you would know me better than that by now," he smirked.

"I thought I would too," I said, but honestly, he was pretty hard to get a read on. As one sided as I thought his character- his personality- was, he kept proving me wrong. Not shooting me, protecting me from the creepy boy at the bar, sparing Thorner because I told him too… Those definitely weren't things I would've guessed he would ever do. He was a walking contradiction and it drove me insane.

He must've seen the double meaning in my comment, the little question inside the phrase, a question of who he _really_ was, because I'd been getting mixed emotions like crazy all day long.

And the comment must've made him uncomfortable, because he rolled his eyes. "Enough with the gross mushy you-trying-to-make-me-feel thing, really. I prefer being able to kill things without you blabbing doubts into my ear."

"If my doubts affect you than obviously you have your own doubts about yourself too."

He glared at me. "I will mount your head. Right here," he said, pointing to the wall.

But really, the threat didn't scare me, because he had had countless opportunities to kill me and hadn't. He seemed to see his threat was empty, because he frowned at my lack of a reaction, lip sticking out in a pout, and stood up.

"You're annoying as shit," he said flatly.

"Thanks."

"You put the Ann in Ann-oying."

"But my name isn't Ann."

He grinned. "Yeah but if it was that would be the bestest joke over."

"But it's not."

"You act like I don't know that Samantha. Geez, I'm not heartless."

He winked with a dimply smirk that made me want to slap him.

"Well, I'm going to take a shower because, as much as I hate hygiene, I just washed this suit and don't want to have to again. Because Moth will give me the whole clean yourself talk and honestly, I can't deal with that again."

So he walked over to the bathroom, stopping to say "Don't take my bed." And so I was left alone with 'World's Cutest Animals' babbling in the background.

So of course I sat down on the bed. And of course, the sitting became laying when my body whispered 'rest, rest, just a little until he comes back' to me. And of course, laying down wasn't too smart, because next thing I knew, I was asleep.

And the next thing I knew after that was being awake. It had felt like seconds of having my eyes closed, but when I glanced blearily at the alarm clock nearby, I saw that it read 2:43. I had laid down at 9:32. That had definitely been longer than a few seconds.

But not enough for it to be morning, so what had woken me up? I shifted to see if I could find out when I felt it. A back against mine. I shot up instinctively, heart racing because I had not expected another living body next to mine. That was when I saw who it was.

Puck. Of course I should've known he wouldn't have settled with just sleeping on the floor, although I had expected him to move me or something. But instead he had resorted to just sleeping next to me, obviously not caring enough to do anything else. Besides tucking me under the blankets and resting me against the pillows. Because I hadn't been like that when I fell asleep- had been strewn on top of the covers in the middle of the bed. And now here I was, snuggled warmly under blankets with two pillows cushioning my head, and there was only one person who could've done it.

The thought of him positioning me so I was comfortable made that weird feeling inside me rise up again, whisper that he wasn't as bad as I thought he was. I just didn't get it. How he could kill whoever he pleased but in the same breath make sure I was comfortable to sleep? Like I said before, walking contradiction.

It made my head hurt to think about, so for a few seconds I just watched the rise and fall of his body under the sheets, the golden curls dangling in front of his face, the peaceful look on his face.

It was as I was watching that I realized what had woken me up. Then that I realized the look wasn't entirely as peaceful as it had seemed at first glance. Puck's face suddenly scrunched up in pain, eyes clenching, jaw muscles tightening. His mouth twitched, but instead of words it was a small moan that came out. A weak, vulnerable noise that should never be associated with him- should never come _out _of him.

"Puck?" I whispered, because maybe he was hurt or something, maybe I could help, anything to take that look off of his face, because as much as I was convinced that I despised him, it was terrible to look at. I pushed my covers off, pulling my body into a sitting position to get a better look at him.

He didn't respond, but his body shifted in the bed, arms wrapped around himself, squeezing tight, too tight, as if he was holding himself together, curling himself into a ball to shield himself from something I couldn't see.

It was then that I really got worried, because this wasn't right, and I didn't know what to do about it. "Puck, wake up. It's ok, wake up," I said, awkwardly but firmly, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. He only squeezed harder, tightened his grip on himself, until he was curled up in such a small, rigid ball that it looked _painful_, all of his muscles clenched around each other, impossibly tense, as if they could snap any second.

I had seen Daphne do something similar, slightly similar, five days after our parents were taken and hadn't come back. She was sleeping beside me, like she had ever since they disappeared, and then suddenly she was whimpering, making horrible noises in her sleep, curling in on herself, but not to this extent. It had taken me a minute of frantically spoken words of comfort before I got her to open her eyes, unwind, and tell me what had happened.

A nightmare, she had said.

And as I looked down at Puck, it was the only explanation I could think of. A nightmare. Puck. Having nightmares. I tapped him again, harder this time, not wanting to really do anything else, not sure of what would cross the line from helping into being uncomfortable.

But then his body began to tremble, shaking hands reaching up to his head, pulling it into his chest by his hair, which must've hurt. His eyes were shifting under his shut eyelids, and his lips began moving again.

This time though, they formed words.

At first, I thought the words were just sounds. More of the pained little moans from earlier. But a moment later, I began picking out the actual _words _he was saying.

"No, 'm sorry, please," he all but whimpered, voice sounding achingly young and achingly terrified. "No, no, no."

"Puck, it's ok, you're ok. We're just in an inn. You're fine," I tried, but he didn't seem to hear me.

"I won't again, I swear, I won't!" And now he was louder, the words more defined, and if it weren't for the squeezed eyelids and shuttering body, I would've thought he was awake and shouting each of them at me.

"I was just trying to help, I was just, I was just, for you! It was for _you_!"

"I know Puck, it's ok. Wake up now, please wake up," I said, because now I was worried, really worried, my heart thumping against my ribcage because I had absolutely no idea how to deal with this, and Puck shouldn't look or sound like this, like a kid, a kid crying out in an agonizingly scared voice.

And then he seemed to snap. And the cries became shouts, became screams, and he pulled himself tighter, if that was possible. "HELP! NO! HELP! SORRY! I'M SORRY! MUSTARDSEED HELP! HELP!"

He was screaming at the top of his lungs, voice raw with terror and pain, and I could practically feel my heart jump in my chest and my eyes widen in a way that probably would have been comical if it hadn't been so damn horrifying instead.

"STOP! PLEASE! STOP!"

"Puck! Puck it's just a dream! You're ok! Wake up, it's me, it's Sabrina! You're fine!"

But he wasn't fine, and I knew that, because something was really wrong with this whole situation. The shouts became unintelligible, just screams of agony, and I was shaking because this was holy shitting terrifying.

That was when I grabbed him, fastened my arm on his forearm, and suddenly he shot up, moving so fast from his horribly tight ball that it looked impossible, eyes flashing open, green depths swirling with misery and pain and a wild panic I'd never seen on him before.

He shoved me off the bed, and I somehow managed to remain standing as I stumbled backwards, but a second later and he jumped out after me, twisting in the air so that his legs were around my neck, using momentum to flip me over him and onto the ground. From there I felt his feet pin my hands to the side, felt his weight on my chest, and then cold, trembling fingers wrapping around my neck, squeezing, squeezing.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I couldn't scream. I could only watch as terror ripped my heart to shreds and Puck strangled me without so much as a hint of mercy in those flaming green eyes.

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**Sorry if this chapter is sort of blagggggh. Mostly it was just a random filler to get plot information from. **

**Ooh but Puck's having nigthmares and it has to do with Mustardseed… hehehe that's important for later on…. Hehehehe**

**Later gators.**

**-anniepear**


	5. Some Technical Issues

**Annnnnd I'm back. **

**Wow, five chapters. Is it just me or does that seem like a lot?**

**Just me? Ok, that's cool.**

**School started for me last week. Just throwing that out there. I've been writing ahead, but if I don't update as consistently well, you'll know why.**

**School. That's why. **

**Disclaimer: Own Sisters Grimm, I do not.**

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**Ch.5: Some Technical Issues**

Dark spots danced in front of my eyes, clouding my vision, getting thicker as each second ticked by, each second of me gasping, trying to gasp, for air. Thrashing my arms, trying to pull them out from the hard pressure of Puck's feet. Somewhere in the corner of my screaming mind, the sensible part of me reminded me that I had _feet_, and yes, I could _use _them. So I did.

Puck was sitting on me, on my lower waist, but it wasn't hard to kick my feet upwards and jab them into his back. He didn't even seem to notice, face twisted in a horrible fury, eyes hard and cold and downright terrifying. But I couldn't exactly do anything else, and no way was I going to let him _kill _me now, not when I had just gotten information on my parents. So I kicked again, panic making it harder this time, and felt my toe connect with the back of his neck.

His head snapped forward, and despite the fact that he was currently choking me to death, I grimaced at how painful it looked. But it seemed to do the trick. His fingers loosened, and then he let go of my neck, and I took a raw, scratchy gulp, throat burning as I coughed violently in between my desperate breaths. I looked up at him, and his face had gone slack with shock as he looked from me hacking to his hands to me again and then scrambled backwards until his back hit the wall, where he stayed.

I pushed myself up once I had gotten my breath back and my throat was no longer screaming for attention, turning to face him. He was still against the wall, eyes huge and wide and surprisingly _innocent_, breathing hard.

"What the holy shitting hell just happened?" he said, not quite managing to cover up the tremble in his voice.

"You attacked me!" I snapped, mostly because my heart was still hammering and I couldn't shake the fear and worry and _emotions _tightening around me.

"I- what?"

"You. Attacked. Me."

"I thought… Dad… And the coals…"

He trailed off, eyes taking on a far away expression, but at least it wasn't the violent fear and anger that was present just seconds ago.

"You had some sort of nightmare. You were shouting all sorts of things, and curled up in this little ball, and shaking, and I didn't know what to do," I panted, rubbing my throat.

I expected him to make some off-handed comment, probably insult me, but instead he sank further against the wall, running his hands over his face, his eyes, which were now looking suspiciously wet.

I just watched him, waiting, letting him calm down a bit and letting myself calm down a bit before I spoke again. "What was it? Your nightmare?"

He shot me a defensive glare. "None of your beeswax."

"It kinda _is _my 'beeswax' when you strangle me because of it!"

"I can strangle whoever I want! That doesn't mean I have to tell you anything I don't want to," was his annoyed answer.

"When it's _me _that you're strangling, I'm pretty sure I deserve an answer," I returned with equal irritation. How could he possibly not _get _that? I could've died! And he wasn't even going to tell me _why_?

"Oh please. We both know that's not happening. Just… leave me be."

I was tempted to keep pushing it, but the way he said those words, _leave me be_, made me decide to give him some space. He sounded exhausted and shaken and so fine, I'd 'let him be'. For now.

Instead I looked over at the clock. It was 2:56, almost 3:00, which meant I was definitely going back to sleep, because no way was I living off of only five hours of sleep. I was a teenager. That just wasn't possible.

I stood up, stretching, trying not to pay attention to the tension in the room, so thick I could almost taste it.

"Well, I'm going back to sleep," I announced, hoping it would help him relax if I didn't make a big deal out of what had just happened, even though I could feel the curiosity, the worry, burning in my mind, could feel my heartbeat still ricocheting all over my body. He didn't respond, just laid his head down on his knees, which were pulled up to his chest like a kid's.

I walked over to the bed, hopping in, and then remembering that he had been sleeping next to me, I awkwardly turned to him. "If you, uh, want to sleep here, I can sleep on the floor, because, well, I don't really feel comfortable sleeping by someone I hardly know, even though I'm glad you didn't kick me out earlier, and-"

"No. I'm good. Not tired." His voice was quiet and troubled but I didn't comment on it, instead feeling grateful that he didn't force me onto the floor as I tucked myself into the covers. Part of me wanted to go to him, comfort him, not just leave him to deal with this on his own. But I didn't want to make him uncomfortable, and I was sure he could handle it on his own. Besides, I had only known him for a day, almost two, and wasn't supposed to like him anyway. So I ignored the sympathetic part of me and closed my eyes.

It took a while, I was still pretty worked up, but eventually I fell asleep to his rhythmic, deep breaths, and the vague thought that the bed was much colder without him there.

When I woke again, it was to light streaming in through the windows and right onto my face. I tried to look away, to sink back into the warm oblivion of sleep, but it was too late. I was awake, and there was no changing that.

I groaned as I sat up, throat still scratchy, neck sore from the ninja flip Puck had done to me earlier. Speaking of Puck…

I glanced around and there he was, already in his suit, mask hanging from his head but not covering his face, a face that was surprisingly carefree and relaxed considering what had happened only – I checked my watch- four hours ago.

"About time you woke up Sleeping Ugly," he said casually from his spot in front of the mirror, where he was brushing his teeth and humming something that sounded suspiciously like Katy Perry.

"By the way, you drool when you sleep. A lot. It's pretty disgusting, to be honest. But then again, _you're _pretty disgusting, so it makes sense I guess," he continued, now dancing along with the little beat he hummed between sentences.

"Mmm. We're starting our day off with insults then?" I said, groggily rubbing an eye as I pulled myself out of bed and stretched.

"What better way to start off the day? Did you notice that rhymed? Is there anything I _can't _do?" he said, and he sounded so cheerful and insane and Puckish that I wondered if maybe what had happened last night was just a dream. Until, that is, I walked to stand behind him at the mirror, and I saw it.

The sides of my neck were purple with bruises shaped distinctly like fingers. My mouth dropped open, because with the way he was choking me it was bound to happen, but still, it wasn't something I was prepared to see in the mirror first thing in the morning.

"Holy... Next time you spaz out could you choke a pillow or something?" I said, fingering my neck lightly and wincing at the pain under my skin. Maybe I should've gone for something more subtle, because Puck's face dropped a bit, and I swear that was guilt I saw in those eyes. It was gone too fast for me to be sure though, and his smile had already returned.

"Oh, but human necks are so much more fun than pillows," he commented lightly, too lightly. It was way too easy for him to avoid the subject at hand, but I let it slide.

"And you'd know, wouldn't you?" I muttered.

He grinned cheekily in return.

And that's how the morning started, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't expected it. Puck avoiding talking about what happened last night, pretending it didn't happen, even though I had bruises on my neck to prove otherwise. He was doing it again, dancing around the problem, just because it was sensitive, personal. It was a bad habit, and pretty soon all of this emotion he _must've _been feeling somewhere was going to explode in his face.

Part of me wanted to be there when it did, ready with an _I told you so!_

The other part of me, the kinder part, wanted to actually help him recognize that feeling wasn't a bad thing.

And then the reasonable part of me wanted to just let him deal with his own problems because they had nothing to do with me and I shouldn't care anyway.

Maybe I was as much of a walking contradiction as he was.

In the end I settled for just going to get dressed, pulling on sweat pants, a T-shirt, a sweater, and my combat boots. It wasn't until I was brushing my teeth and he was insulting my breath and I was watching him smolder at himself in the mirror that I broached the subject again.

"So… Who's Mustardseed?"

I watched in the mirror as Puck's smolder dropped and the air of carefree relaxation faded a bit into something else. "Who?"

"Mustardseed."

His face was void, blank of any emotion. "How do you know who that is?"

"I don't, that's why I'm asking you. You were shouting his name last night, calling for help."

He met my gaze through the glass, and his narrowed eyes and thin lips spoke what he didn't say. To drop the subject, now, if I valued my life.

"Sorry if it's a touchy subject, I was just wondering, and besides, just because it's touchy doesn't mean it's bad."

He scoffed and his eyes sharpened dangerously and his face became something full of resentment and hatred and loathing.

"It's not touchy but it's also not anything you deserve to know about and even if you did, why would I tell _you_?" he practically snarled.

I shrugged, not letting myself be affected by the bitter fury suddenly burning on his face. Because I didn't think it was really directed at me, not really. It was directed at someone, something, else, maybe Mustardseed, maybe his past, I didn't know.

"I don't know. That's why people have feelings, so that they can share them, and others can help to understand them."

Puck looked away, eyes cold and harsh. "Not in my experience. Feelings are disadvantages, and even if you have them, no one seems to care either way. You can feel something as much as you want but that's not going to change the fact that no one gives a shit about you."

I watched him closely, watched the way his green eyes filled with things I couldn't identify, wondered what had made him this way, what had made him think that.

I opened my mouth to ask him just that, to say that he wasn't right, but he clapped his hands together before I could. "E. Nough. I'm not talking about this. I haven't so much as even thought about it in years and you're not going to make me."

I raised my hands in defense. "Ok, ok. That's your choice, not mine."

"You're right, it is my choice."

We both stood there for a few moments, just staring at each other, before I was done brushing my teeth and walked over to pack my toothbrush back into my bag. The weight of the night before wouldn't seem to leave my shoulders, my neck prickling slightly with the bruises and my heart prickling slightly with unanswered questions.

"Come on Sally, we have places to be!" Puck called after me, standing by the door impatiently, hands on his hips. He was back to being the most annoying person on this planet and it had taken less than a minute. It made me want to slap him.

"Geez, could you give me five seconds?" I snapped, zipping up my booksack and swinging it onto my shoulder.

"For the record, that was definitely longer than five seconds."

"Thanks for that wonderful observation. Now, where are we going?"

He shut the door behind me and we both started walking to the elevator.

"Lots of places. Today is busy busy busy. Busy like a bee. I never did understand that reference though, bees never seemed that busy to me. Besides busy stinging me. One time, this mother-pooping huge bee came-"

"Puck. Focus. Where are we going?" I said, trying to keep the tight exasperation out of my voice.

He glared at me. "That story was golden. But fine, if you want to miss out on one of the most important tales of our time-"

"Puck."

"Fiiiine. First, we're going to my very scary secret lair." He looked over at me as if I should have some reaction to that statement, but I didn't. He pouted a bit, but continued. "There I'll get some more of my things, see what information I have on these Scarlet Hand people. Who knows, maybe I have the location of one of their bases written down somewhere. Stuff like that tends to happen."

We made it to the elevator, and I clicked the down button as he kept talking.

"Then we'll head to Michigan to talk to one of my old friends who will- hopefully- have some more information on the Scarlet Hand. She knows practically everything, so she should for sure know about these freakos who kidnapped your folks. The trick is getting her to talk to me."

"Does she hate you or something? Because it seems like there won't be a shortage of people who do," I commented.

"You always know just what to say don't you, Sierra. But no, she doesn't necessarily _hate _me. It's more like a love-hate. I try to kill her sometimes, she tries to kill me sometimes, the rest of the time we balance out somewhere in the middle."

I gave him a look. "That's the most intense love hate relationship I've ever heard of."

"Just as intense as ours?" he said with a huge grin, nudging me in the ribs just as the elevator went ding and the doors slid open.

"Yeah, except we're missing the love aspect," I responded as I stepped in. He followed me cheerily.

"Such negativity! You're lucky I don't get offended easily or you'd probably be dead right now. Moving on," he said as he clicked L for lobby and the doors slid shut.

"She'll probably tell us a good place to start tracking them down, or some valuable information, or something of use hopefully. Once we have that, we can head to my second favorite place in Michigan."

"And that is?" I asked, watching the numbers on the little monitor go from 14 to 13 to 12. It may have been a rundown city, but their inn was pretty nice.

"You ever heard of Detroit?"

"Who hasn't heard of Detroit you moron?"

He glared at me. "Well, it's not specifically Detroit. It's the Reindeer's Antlers."

"The Reindeer's Antlers. What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

"It's a restaurant."

"A restaurant? You're bringing me all the way to Michigan so that we can go to_ restaurant_?"

"No, I'm bringing you all the way to Michigan so that we can talk to Areye. Do keep up. But while we're there, we're going to have to eat, so I'm bringing you all the way to _Detroit _so that we can go to a restaurant. But trust me, it's worth it."

"Oh yeah? I sort of doubt driving further into a state we could be leaving just for food is considered worth it."

"That's because you haven't tried there food. Last time I was there I had this burger as big as my face, and it was smothered in this p-"

His words were cut off with a loud bang as the entire elevator shuddered. I grabbed the wall to keep myself balanced, but pretty soon the shaking stopped.

"What was that?" I asked.

"Probably nothing," Puck said nonchalantly.

My eyes flew up to the monitor, which was stuck on 7. "Uh, Puck? Our elevator isn't moving."

His eyebrows furrowed up as he reached over and tapped the monitor. It didn't move. His green eyes sharpened and he was reaching up to pull on his mask when suddenly the elevator shook again, hard, violently. A horrible ripping sound filled the air and my gaze shot upwards just as a panel from the elevator roof was torn off.

A second later and gunshots were blasting through the air. I felt myself scream as I pushed against the wall, panic seizing so fast that it almost made me pass out. The bullets showered around me, whizzing past my face, missing killing me by fractions. I felt one nick my arm and hissed at the pain, pulling my body in on itself, trying to become as small as possible.

And then hands were wrapped around me, shielding me, and I heard a gunshot much closer to my face then the last. I opened my eyes as Puck shot through the hole in the roof, and heard a body rolling to the side to avoid the bullet.

"Come on," Puck hissed, and he grabbed me by the hand and quite promptly shot a ring of holes in the wall, enough to weaken it so that he could kick it down. The hole opened up into darkness, into the elevator shaft. There wasn't anywhere to go though- our elevator was suspended in the empty corridor of air.

"What? I thought there would be stairs or something!" Puck said incredulously.

"Stairs on an elevator!?" I snapped back, fear making my anger pulse.

Before we could consider that much longer, a hand was clamped in my hair. It yanked hard, and instinctively I swatted backwards with my hands, managing to land a punch on the person's face. The hand abruptly let go, and Puck pulled me back, putting me by the edge so that he could stand between me and the shooter, who I finally got a good look at.

He was a man, long stringy hair covering his face, wearing all black and an assortment of different weapons. He was tall and thickly built and was practically radiating deadliness. I would've taken a step back if it weren't for the fact that thin air instead of floor was behind me.

"Well. Fancy meeting you here. You know, we could've just shared the elevator instead of you going all maniac-man on us. There is room for more than just two people on those things, you know," Puck said.

The man didn't respond, instead pulling out a knife and launching into another attack. He took a sharp swing at Puck, who hit the man's wrist and intercepted the knife's path to his face. The man countered easily with a punch from his other hand, which landed on Puck's chest, but Puck just grabbed his fist and swung him backwards. The man landed hard on his back, head hanging over the edge of the elevator, knife clattering down into the void of emptiness below us. Puck grabbed his feet and was about to swing him over when the man kicked out harshly, landing a blow to Puck's nose.

Puck instinctively staggered backwards, and in that time the man flipped up, turning to face me. He smiled darkly.

"You're turn girly."

I managed to kick him in the groin before he could say anything else, but he only growled and lunged forward. I frowned. That was supposed to work on all men. Would the world ever give me a break?

Before he could reach me, Puck was back, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and heaving him away from me. The man wasted no time as he aimed a punch at Puck. Puck managed to block the blow, ducking and stabbing a dagger into the man's thigh. He received a punch to the ribs for it, and then kneed the man in the face, who responded by grabbing Puck's arm and shoving him against the wall, hard. The snapping sound was horrible, but Puck didn't react other than biting his lip and slamming a fist into the man's throat.

The man gargled a bit, eyes sharpening. "You're dead," he growled.

"Am I? I didn't check."

And then the flurry of fists continued, much to my racing heart's dismay, and Puck was backed up into the corner of the elevator. The man swung again, a hard punch to the face, but Puck ducked, letting the man's fist hit the wall instead, where it got stuck in the plaster. Puck seized the opportunity and took the man's head in his hand, slamming it against the wall.

The man's body crumpled automatically, the force of the hit rendering him unconscious. Puck stood there for a moment, as if waiting for him to get back up, and then sighed loudly. "That was ridiculously easily. Could life get any more boring?"

Yeah, because that was my idea of boring. I was still standing there, heart racing, feeling pathetically useless and practically paralyzed by fear. Puck glanced over at me.

"You alright?"

I nodded mutely.

"Ok blondie. Let's get out of here before mean-and-ugly wakes up."

It occurred somewhere in the back of my mind that Puck hadn't killed him and wasn't intending to even though he could. Well that was… _different_. Instead of considering that for any longer, I nodded again, and he cupped his hands out for me to step on, boosting me up onto the roof of the elevator. He jumped up, following suit as he pulled himself up easily.

"We need to get out of here," I said helpfully, keeping my voice quiet, because maybe it would wake him up if I spoke too loud.

"Yeah, working on it," Puck snapped.

And then in the cluttered fear that was my brain I had an idea. "Your wings! You can fly us out!"

He didn't react other than a sharp shake of the head. "Not an option."

"What? It is too an option!"

"Would you shut up and let me th-"

He stopped speaking as a whirring noise pierced the dimness, and then I saw something move above us before realizing there were elevator cables across from us. Which meant there was another elevator in this shaft. Which meant that's what the noise was- the other elevator coming. Which meant we had a way out.

I summed the thought process up with a quick, "The other elevator."

Puck nodded, and I could just make out the green of his eyes in the darkness as they flickered upwards to where I was pointing.

"Ok, when I say three we're going to jump onto that baby."

I gauged the distance between our elevator and the cords across from us that held the other elevator in place and blanched because it was at least ten feet. "No way can we make that."

"Sure we can! Have a little faith girly!"

"I have faith, just not in you."

"Shucks, you're making me blush. But your compliments are wasted Grimm."

He paused as a groan sounded below us. Then he looked at me, eyes firm. "Grab on- we're doing it."

"Wasn't a compliment," I muttered as I stepped closer to him, trying not to feel weird about the fact that his arms were wrapped around my torso and I could feel his heartbeat thumping against me. I just grabbed him in return, holding as tight as I could because if I was falling by God he was going down with me.

I glanced back up as the whirring quieted. The elevator had stopped a few floors above us.

"Hurry up," I whispered to no one in particular, because I didn't know how long 'mean and ugly' would stay unconscious. And I doubted chilling out on top of the elevator was a smart thing to be doing when he did wake up.

"Chillax."

"I can't chillax! We are potentially jumping to our dooms!"

"Would you rather stay here? Because I can arrange that."

"No. I wouldn't."

"Aw too bad. Although I'm pretty sure everyone reading this would hate me if I left you here."

"Reading wh- what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Fourth wall stuff. You wouldn't understand."

For once I didn't. Didn't even want to for that matter. So instead I just tried not to punch him as the whirring started back up and I squeezed tighter.

"When I say go, we jump," Puck said, backing up a bit to gather more momentum, pulling me along with him.

I didn't even nod, just watched as the bottom of the elevator approached. And then when the bottom was level with the top of ours, Puck shouted "GO!" right into my ear, and I don't think I've ever done anything more stupid in my entire life.

We covered the length of our elevator in three quick strides, and by then the top of it was level with the middle of the other one. And then my feet were on the very edge, and I pushed off with all of the strength I could possibly muster.

And there we were, one completely sane girl clinging onto one completely insane boy, soaring through an elevator shaft as he laughed loudly and she screamed for her life.

I felt him roll midair and was thinking that this really wasn't the time for circus tricks when his body jarred as we hit something hard. And then we were sliding, and then we stopped.

That was when I opened my eyes. He was below me, having twisted to take the brunt of the fall (so the roll _wasn't _a circus trick) and I was laying on top of him, breathing hard, face buried in his chest, listening to his own heart thump just as wildly as mine.

Although mine was from pure and utter terror and his was probably from something annoying like excitement.

We laid there for longer than necessary, probably because my legs were too numb and my head to shaky to stand up.

Eventually though, when I remembered that yes I was alive and yes I was laying on Puck and yes I was _laying on Puck_, I pushed myself off, sitting up beside him.

He moaned, but the sound quickly became a breathless laugh.

"That. Was. Awesome."

"Awesomely stupid. You're lucky it worked or I would've killed you."

Puck sat up, wincing as he jarred his arm because oh yeah, it had been broken or something earlier and he had probably just made things worse by throwing himself like an idiot onto a moving elevator.

"I'm pretty sure if it hadn't worked I'd be dead anyway."

"Yeah well, I'd find you in the afterlife and kill you again," I said, managing to pull myself up with a deep sigh of relief because again, I was _alive_.

Puck followed suit, eyebrows furrowed a bit as he did so, which I was guessing meant he was in some sort of pain. Although most people with a broken arm and what looked to be some sort of gash on their forehead and a bloody mess of a nose who had also just jumped onto an elevator and landed on their backs would be doing a lot more than just furrowing their eyebrows.

"You ok?" I asked.

He gave me a lopsided grin. "Aw look! She does care."

I snorted. "Not quite."

"Thanks for that unnecessary insult. And I _am _fine, for the record."

"Hmm," was my skeptical answer, which he ignored. Instead he leaned down and pulled a roof panel off of the elevator, opening a hole into the little room below. Three girls were in there talking, but they all stopped quickly as their eyes widened and took in Puck's bloody form.

He hopped down into the elevator, and I carefully lowered myself in behind him.

The girls were still just staring at us. Puck smiled his usual charming smirk and bowed. "Morning ladies."

They were too shocked to respond. Which is expected from people who just watched a bloody assassin and his irritated sidekick climb from the roof into their elevator.

A few seconds later and the elevator dinged and the doors opened, the girls scurrying out. One scampered back a moment later though to slip a piece of paper in Puck's belt. "Call me," she whispered, and then hurried back off after her friends.

Puck grinned his most charming smile and flashed me a wink before walking out, as if he didn't just almost die. I rolled my eyes and trailed behind him.

Everyone in the lobby seemed to go silent, watching as he emerged, and I followed tentatively behind, pretending I didn't know him because I wasn't sure I wanted to be mulled into the psychopath category just yet.

"Go on about your daily lives citizens- I have decided to be merciful this day," Puck announced grandly.

No one responded.

"Now's the part where you thank me."

Everyone quickly rushed to express their gratitude. I rolled my eyes.

Puck waltzed out, basking in the panicked praise, and I walked after him. Once we were out he stretched, sunlight gleaming off of his blonde curls and illuminating his figure as if it rose for that very reason. Probably because it was scared to put him off too.

Then he patted his stomach lightly.

"You know what? I'm starving. Are you starving?"

I opened my mouth to answer but he cut me off.

"Actually, it doesn't matter if you are or not. We are going to get ice cream. Because I said so."

I groaned. Not only had we just gotten, what was it, oh yeah_, attacked_, but seriously, ice cream? "Puck, ice cream for breakfast really isn't the healthiest thing to-"

"What? I can't hear you over the sound of my perfect abs and amazing biceps."

I bit my tongue to keep from the sharp retort and instead just sighed. "Fine."

He squealed like a little kid, bouncing around a bit on the balls of his feet. Not something people usually do after getting beat up in an elevator and then jumping onto another one and then threatening an entire hotel lobby. My heart, for one, was still beating particularly fast.

"I'm getting a ten scoop cone with extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce _and _a cherry on top. And I think my ten flavors will be chocolate and honey jalapeno_- _have you ever had honey jalapeno ice cream? It's _so _good- and pickle and ketchup and salted licorice and root beer float- because come on, root beer floats are perfection in the form of foamy liquidy solidy goodnes- and peanut butter bacon and- wait do you think they have Shirley Temple flavored ice cream? Because if so that's flavor number eight- and then…"

And the only thing I got from his ten minute long rant as he skipped along to the ice cream shop was that he reallydidn't need any more sugar in his system.

_Really._

* * *

**So that's that. **

**By the way, people kept mentioning how Puck was like Deadpool, so I added my favorite Deadpool trait in here- breaking the fourth wall.**

**For those of you who don't know the mysterious fourth wall and how to break it, well, it's like when fictional characters know they're fiction, or in a book. Talking to the reader, or making comments about it… stuff like that.**

**Let me know if I should keep stuff like that up or not!**

**Also I think I'm going to start doing a preview for the next chapter at the end of each chapter… just because I want to.**

**So, ta-ta for now! And he's your preview!**

**-anniepear**

_Preview for Chapter 6_

"_-I was wondering if you could answer some very pressing questions I have."_

_Puck glanced at me over his ice cream. "Hey, I'm still on scoop number ten, we've got time. Will this be like Twenty Questions? I love that game. I think twenty's too many though, maybe more like Thirteen Questions, or-"_

"_Puck. Questions."_

"_Right," he said, going back to eating his ice cream._

_I took a breath and braced myself. Hopefully this would go better than I had a feeling it would._


	6. Conversations Over Ice Cream

**This is a more laid back chapter. I wanted to have some Puck/Sabrina time, and that's pretty much what this entire thing is. Bonding while eating ice cream. Can you ask for anything better?**

**No? Didn't think so.**

**Sabrina: Yes. I certainly could. **

**Me: No you c-**

**Sabrina: Chocolate.**

**Me: …ok she wins.**

**Disclaimer (because I keep forgetting to do this): I do not own anything in this awesome universe.**

**For now. (mwahaha)**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Conversations Over Ice Cream**

"It's the middle of December. Remind me again why I let you talk me into getting ice cream?"

"Because I'm irresistibly adorable?" Puck said, giving me big green puppy dog eyes and jutting out his lower lip. I rolled my eyes.

"Nope, I don't think that's it."

He grinned. "Then it's because I'm unnaturally attractive," he stated, quickly changing his innocent pout to a seductive smirk, one eyebrow raised.

I just rolled my eyes again, although I had to admit I didn't think I'd ever stop admiring those dimples.

"Could this line be any slower?" he groaned suddenly, throwing his head back in exasperation.

"Puck, there's three more people in front of us. Quite frankly I don't know why they're getting ice cream either. It's freezing outside."

The statement was complemented by a sudden shiver that wracked my body.

"Maybe if I just hurried things up," Puck said casually, but I caught the way his hand twitched towards the gun at his belt.

"Nuh-uh buddy. You are not shooting people for ice cream," I scolded.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he muttered, but he did as he was told and went back to cradling his arm against his chest, making me wonder again how badly it had been damaged. I didn't pester him about it though, because I already felt enough like a mom fussing a child anyway.

"So," I began, mostly to keep his mind from boredom, which would no doubt lead to not so great things, "who do you think that guy in the elevator was?"

Puck shrugged, as if he talked about the topic of people being sent to murder us every day. "Eh, an assassin of some type. Probably out to kill you. I'm sure there's a buttload of people searching for you as we speak."

What a pleasant thing to think about.

"You don't think they were after you then?" I asked, remembering what Moth had told me yesterday- was it only yesterday?

Puck actually laughed. "Whoa honey bunny. Anyone out to kill me is either bat-shit crazy or just secretly wants my autograph. I'm like the Chuck Norris of the assassin world."

"Chuck Norris?"

"Yeah, old guy, cheesy little goatee, supposed to be super tough. Although he's really not. I met him a year ago and within five minutes had his legs taped to the fan and his face being pulled around in a tub of warm mustard and onions until he said Deadnight was a cooler name than Chuck."

The memory brought a sardonic little smile to his face. "Good times, good times."

I didn't know who Chuck Norris was, but the mention of mustard and onions, warm ones at that, was enough to make me gag. But on a more important note, Puck obviously didn't know that assassins were, for some reason, out to get him too. Or at least, according to Moth. The thought made me think of the little phone she had given to me before we left, and for the first time since then, I wondered vaguely what it was for.

I didn't have much time to think about it though, because then we were at the front of the little cart, where a young, toothpick thin man was serving out ice cream cones with a huge smile. How the heck could you stay that skinny when you were in the ice cream business?

"Good morning my friends? Is there anything I can do for you?" he said with a warm grin.

"No, I just waited in line for ten minutes to look at you. Of course there's something you can do for me," Puck said, rolling his eyes and giving me a look that clearly said 'can you believe this guy?' I gave him a look back that hopefully translated the message 'stop being a butt and order your ice cream.'

The man's smile faltered a bit. "That's no way to talk to people mister."

Unlike the small groups of people walking around who had immediately recognized Puck as Deadnight and quite promptly headed in the opposite direction, this man seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was talking to one of the most skilled killers in the entire world. I fought the urge to face palm myself because seriously, that was _not _the thing to say Mr. Ice Cream Man.

"Oh, and I suppose you think you're the one to tell me how I _can _talk to people?" Puck said with a bit of an edge to his voice.

The man puffed out his chest importantly. "I believe someone has to do it. Rudeness and insults are both things I won't tolerate."

"You know what I won't tolerate? Annoying balding dudes in those obnoxious ice cream man aprons that waste my time with scolding me when I could be having my ice cream. Do you know any guys like that? Because I can name at least one."

"I'm not afraid of you or you're weird suit man. Sure you've got muscles and the good looks, but who's got the intellect here?"

"Um, last time I checked, it was me. I could be wrong though. If you want I could check to see if you have a brain with this little knife of mine," Puck said, pulling out his dagger.

The man quite promptly raised his tiny little fists, as if they could do any damage. I decided that was a good time to intercede.

"Whoa whoa whoa boys, settle down. We get it, you're both tough and macho and stuff. Now can we all just calm down and order our ice cream?" I said, stepping in between them and putting a hand on Puck's chest, pushing him back a bit. He just continued glaring at the man, who kept glaring back.

I rolled my eyes. "This is ridiculous guys. You are quite literally fighting over a cart of ice cream. Now ask yourself, how manly is that?"

The man bit his lip and actually looked a bit embarrassed, nodding quickly. Puck grinned at his discomfort and put his knife back.

"If Captain I-have-the-body-of-a-twelve-year-old here is ready, can I order now?" he said.

This time, the man didn't rise up to the bait. He just nodded.

"I'd like a ten scoop ice cream on a waffle cone, and I want the scoops in this order, first to last: chocolate, honey jalapeno, pickle, ketchup, salted licorice, root beer float, peanut butter bacon, Shirley Temple, roasted candy corn, and vanilla."

I didn't know if I was the only one thinking it, but chocolate and vanilla looked really out of place in that order. I expected the man to say he didn't have any of those flavors- I'd never even heard of most of them- but he just nodded, although he gave Puck a weird look.

Well, this _was_ an Everafter city. They could just use magic to conjure up any flavor they wanted, I guess.

That's exactly what the man did too, taking out a wand which he twirled to produce a small bucket of each flavor Puck had requested that he didn't already have in front of him. He then proceeded to scoop them all into a giant cone, making what had to be the biggest tower of ice cream I had ever seen.

"And I want chocolate sauce and- well I might as well do caramel sauce as well. I sort of just got attacked- pretty sure I deserve it. What the heck, throw some caramel sauce in there too! And I want extra sprinkles, not the big ones that look like fish food, but the little cylinder ones that are super smooth. And a cherry. With no stem."

And if that wasn't the weirdest ice cream order ever, well, I didn't know what was.

The man added the finishing touches before handing the gigantic cone to Puck, who gazed at it with a look nothing short of love.

I, on the other hand, just ordered two scoops of rocky road ice cream and reveled in the fact that I was a normal human being.

After we were done I (of course) paid, and as we were walking way the man muttered, "red and black asshole," under his breath.

That was hismistake.

Puck quite promptly shoved his ice cream in my hand, pulled a ridiculously huge gun of some type out of who knows where, and shot what appeared to be a giant ball of flame at the cart. It exploded in a flurry of fire and frozen dairy products and sprinkles that somehow managed to miss the two of us completely but coat the man in what probably proved to be a very sticky and cold mixture.

"Well, that was very necessary," Puck said, tapping the gun twice, and it shrunk down, small enough to fit into one of his pouches.

Handy.

"Puck, really?" I said, glancing around at everyone staring at us, at the man standing shocked in his puddle of destruction.

"Really. Really really. Now let's go eat our ice cream somewhere where annoying people won't bother me."

I wanted to help clean up, but if people were hunting me and Puck, it would be best to get as far from this place as we could. So I followed him to a little snow covered park a few blocks away and sat down on the circular table with him, licking at my ice cream and ignoring the way it froze my insides because hey, it was still delicious.

"So while we're all chilled out here-"

"Chilled out! Stephanie, that was a classic! Because it's cold outside, and we're eating cold things, so we're _chilled_! Who thought you could be capable of such humor! I'm impressed, really, I am."

I gave him a flat look because we both knew that wasn't what I meant. "Anyway, while we're all _relaxed _here-"

"Boo!"

"-I was wondering if you could answer some very pressing questions I have."

Puck glanced at me over his ice cream. "Hey, I'm still on scoop number ten, we've got time. Will this be like Twenty Questions? I love that game. I think twenty's too many though, maybe more like Thirteen Questions, or-"

"Puck. Questions."

"Right," he said, going back to eating his ice cream.

I took a deep breath. Hopefully this would go better than I had a feeling it would.

"Ok, question number one. Why couldn't you fly?"

He squirmed a bit, and hey, maybe it had a personal backstory or something, but I wanted to know, so I was willing to risk his anger for a bit.

"Couldn't fly? What do you mean?" he asked, and I snorted. Feigning dumbness was a trick of Basil's. I wasn't falling for it.

"When we were trying to escape our little elevator fiasco. You could've just flown us off. You didn't. Why not?"

I saw as his eyes softened a bit, then hardened again, watched the twitch in his mouth as he decided whether or not to answer. In the end the hardness won, and instead of giving me a calm answer, it was a snap.

"Who cares if I could or couldn't fly? I have wings. Isn't that good enough? Now stop trying to pry into my business and-"

"Puck. It's the same thing every time. I ask a question, you get all mad and defensive, and in the end you just yell at me and then pretend that I never asked anything five minutes later. Can we not do that this time?"

"It's what I always do. No one cares enough to listen anyway, and I don't care about anyone enough to bother telling them."

"Puck," I said again. "It's just a simple question. And besides, I'm asking, aren't I? Pretty sure that means I want to listen to whatever you have to say. And you don't have to care about me to answer the question. Please, anything to keep my mind off of this brainfreeze I can feel growing."

I gave him a small smile, surprised that it actually felt genuine, and his eyebrows dipped a bit in confusion, as if he didn't know exactly how to respond to that. Really, did no one _ever _ask him about his past? Was it true that no one even cared enough to know? I wasn't sure if it was sympathy or pity that I felt at that realization.

Then his eyebrows smoothed out a bit, and a small smile played at his lips, and it was tiny and surprisingly timid and looked strange compared to his usual sardonic, insane grin, but it actually seemed to reach his eyes for a change.

"You know, Everafters don't get brainfreezes. Superior awesomeness."

"Or because you guys don't have any brains to freeze."

That made the grin widen a bit, and I could feel my own stretching, because I could almost forget I was talking to the lunatic I hired for the sole purpose of finding my parents and pretend it was just a normal conversation. It actually felt like one for once.

But then his eyes darkened a bit and the smile dropped. "They clipped them," he said suddenly.

"Clipped what?"

"My wings."

Then it was my turn to look confused. "What do you mean, clipped them?"

Puck wasn't looking at me anymore, had stopped licking his ice cream, and was just staring at the table, fingers trailing over the intricate designs weaved into it. "When I was younger, I, uh, lived somewhere where no one really liked me. Or paid attention to me. So I would sort of fool around to, you know, get noticed, and one day I took it too far. It was a total accident, it really was, I had just meant to put a little snake in the bed of this man who was a particular shit-bag to me. Only the snake turned out to be poisonous, and it bit him, and well… he sorta died."

This was Puck. The boy who killed anyone he wanted and did it all for money and felt nothing even close to remorse. And yet in his eyes was regret so deep that it physically hurt me to look at, and it was all because he had accidently killed a person. He killed people for a living, and yet talking about the death of this man made him press his lips together, eyebrows drawn in in a look that was no different than that of a guilty kid.

"But it was an accident Puck. That's not your fault," I said softly, not knowing what else I _could _say, because I was consoling an assassin for killing someone. That wasn't supposed to happen.

"It was though. Everyone knew it. So as my punishment, they brought me in front of the entire city, took out these sheers, and just dug into my wings like there was no tomorrow. They're not completely gone of course, but they're broken beyond repair. I'll never fly again."

"But I saw your wings when I was at your house and they looked perfectly fine," I said, confused.

"Charm. Moth found it for me. I take a little potion once a week and voila, my wings look good as new again."

"Why?"

"Because it makes me forget what I did."

He still wasn't looking at me, and had stopped playing with the pattern on the table to instead squeeze his hands together, nails digging into his skin. I felt something tighten around my heart, and went to reach a hand out to his before remembering this was Puck. Instead I let it fall somewhere in the middle of the table, closer to his, but not touching, a silent sign of comfort. Or at least, I hoped it was.

"Puck. We all make mistakes. Some mistakes are bigger than others, yes, but they're all the same. People mess up. Everafters mess up. That doesn't make us horrible people."

Puck looked at me suddenly, and his eyes were surprisingly vulnerable, and so very green. "Sometimes they do. When the person you killed-"

He cut himself off suddenly, swallowing thickly, and then taking a big lick of his ice cream.

"What Puck? What about the person you _accidently _killed?" I asked gently.

His eyes flashed with something that looked like pain, and confusion, and a deep well of misery, but it was just a flash, and a moment later shields were back over his eyes, covering them with his usual mask of casual indifference.

"The past is in the past. Personal motto, which I'm pretty sure I've already told you. You really should pay attention more, Grimm. Now, next question," he said flatly, licking loudly. I wanted to ask what was still bothering him, but the fact that he was still open to my questions after the emotional response the last one had caused was a miracle, so I didn't test it.

"Ok, ok. Be honest with me- is your arm hurt? Or any part of you for that matter?" I asked sternly.

He smirked. "Look at you, going all mother hen on me. That doesn't usually happen."

"Well, someone's got to make sure you don't go off and kill yourself, you idiot."

The words sounded weirdly fond, which I hadn't meant, and he rolled his eyes, but I was pretty sure that was silent happiness I saw in them. It made whatever had been constricting my heart earlier ease a little.

"I'm pretty sure he broke my wrist. I can stitch up the cut on my forehead easily tonight. I already snapped my nose back in place, and it's feeling better now. So other than that and a few bruises, I'm feeling cool as a coconut."

"Cucumber. It's cool as a cucumber."

"Yeah but cucumbers are disgusting and therefore don't deserve to be called cool. Ever. Coconuts on the other hand…"

He made a face of awe, and I laughed.

"Should've ordered a coconut flavored scoop," I said.

He frowned, as if the thought had never occurred to him. "You couldn't have said that earlier stink face? Do you think that guy would mind if I went and ordered another scoop?"

"Judging by the fact that you demolished his cart, I'd have to say yes."

Puck pouted. "No fair."

"Maybe you shouldn't blow stuff up then."

"What about you?"

"What? I don't blow stuff up."

"No. Are you ok? Did he hurt you at all?"

I covered up the fact that I had never in a million years expected him to ever ask me that by shrugging. "He managed to buzz my arm a bit with a bullet, but it doesn't even hurt anymore, so I'm sure I'm fine."

"Let me see."

"What? No, it doesn't even-"

"Rule number 73. The client has to show me any injuries they get while under my protection because I am the boss."

I didn't even protest, wondering if his rules were as fake as mine were, and just pulled off my sweatshirt (the sleeve where the bullet had hit was a bit blood soaked. I'd have fun cleaning that out) and rolled up my T-shirt sleeve (also blood soaked) to show him. The bullet hadn't hit me full on, just grazed my skin, leaving a long but shallow gash on my shoulder. It wasn't even bleeding anymore, just crusted over with dried blood.

"Ew," I said.

"Looks like spaghetti sauce," Puck commented lightly.

"Double ew."

Puck suddenly leaned down, grabbing a bunch of snow in his hand, and pressed it onto the wound.

"Cold cold cold!" I said, but the ice actually soothed the stinging a bit, and as the water melted a bit on my arm, it cleaned off most of the blood around it.

"Just hold that on there for a bit, and you'll be fine," Puck said casually, leaning back in his chair again, licking his ice cream enthusiastically (he had finished three scoops now and was down to a brown one with red bits in it that I assumed was peanut butter bacon- who the heck ordered peanut butter bacon?).

"Thanks," I said awkwardly, not sure how to feel about this suddenly not completely horrible Puck.

"Ok, that question's covered. What else have you got?"

I licked my ice cream tentatively, wondering if I should ask the next one. It was pushing my luck, but hey, things had gone surprisingly well so far. Might as well.

"Sorry to bring this subject up again, but hey, I've still got bruises that need answering to. So, uh, what was with the nightmare last night? And Mustardseed? And something about your dad, and coals I think…"

I could already tell that was a bad question choice, because his face seemed to clench up, and he licked his ice cream much more coldly and slowly than he had been before, biting his lip as he swallowed.

"No."

"But Puck! You've answered all the other questions. How bad could this be? You don't have to explain all of it- just a bit. Here, we'll start with the Mustardseed part. Who is he?"

It was the second time I'd asked him that, and the name got the same reaction both times- swirls of contempt and anger and some sort of longing in his emerald eyes. This time, however, he didn't yell at me. He just took a deep breath.

"Mustardseed is a boy I grew up with when I was a child."

It was an answer, albeit an extremely irritatingly vague one, but hey, we were making progress.

"Ok. Were you friends?"

Puck didn't even seem to be paying attention to me anymore. His eyes were looking inward, at something I couldn't see, and although I could touch him if I reached out, he felt so far away in that moment.

"_Were_. Our- _his_ parents made us do practically everything together, so we didn't have a choice but to grow close to one another."

Ok, slip up on the our-his thing. I filed that away for questioning later.

"And what? You drifted apart? You got in a fight? Did he leave for some reason?"

Puck's eyes were crawling even deeper in on themselves, and I thought it might only be my questions and the sweetness of the ice cream he was slowly, methodically licking that kept him anchored here.

"I realized it had been a lie. I realized he actually didn't care. Had never cared. Just like no one else had ever cared. In the end, when it was me in need of help, when it was me who didn't know where to go, what to do, when it was me who had messed up horribly and didn't know who to turn to for help, he did the same as everyone else. Turned his back on me."

He spoke with a soft rhythm, each word filled with an emotion so deep it seemed to pierce the air between us. And yet I didn't know exactly what it was. Fear? Sadness? Loneliness? Hatred?

Love?

"We used to go out for ice cream too. When we were supposed to be training, or doing our homework, or sometimes even sleeping. The moment no one was looking, we'd sneak out, thinking we were the cleverest boys around."

There was something that might've been a smile on his lips, but it was bittersweet, and his eyes were fogged with memories. So many memories.

"I knew how to be quiet and how to break rules, where as he knew where the ice cream shop was and how much money to bring. We made a good team. We'd show up, giggling like idiots, and demand to be served ice cream, no matter what time of day, or night, it was. He never let me get more than four scoops though, because he claimed too much sugar was bad for you. I'd always get the same thing- one scoop of mint, two of cherry, and one of strawberry. He'd always get all strawberry. Two scoops of it. He loved those things. Said if we ever got a pet dog, that's what we'd have to name it. Strawberry. Can you imagine that- a dog named Strawberry? Moron."

His tone was light and yet at the same time deep with a sad sort of wistfulness, and suddenly the thick glint of what might've been a sort of painful happiness disappeared, to be replaced with something hard and twisted and horrible.

"But I don't care about him anymore. Don't care about anyone. And I prefer it that way," he said coldly, harshly, and the moment passed just as quickly as it had come. All I knew was this Mustardseed person was a lot more important to Puck than he was willing to admit. That much was obvious.

"And your dad? And the coals? And-"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," he said firmly, and judging by the hard gleam to his eyes, I decided he was right. That was enough for now. But I wouldn't forget what he had told me- was determined to figure this out.

To figure him out.

Don't ask me why, because even I didn't really know. I just wanted to.

"Ok, that's ok. But Puck?"

His eyes were still a bit sensitive, and his shields weren't up yet, so I decided to make my point now rather than try to when he was being more, well, Deadnight-ish, and just laughed at me.

I waited until his eyes met mine, and maybe they were shining with something, or maybe that was just the cold burning them.

"Anything you ever want to talk about. Anything at all. You can tell me. I don't know about anyone else you've met so far, but I'm not just lying when I say this. I don't mind listening. Whether or not you care, I don't."

The words made something that looked like pain but wasn't fill his eyes, but he was smiling slightly, which must've been a good sign.

"Unless, of course, you stop threatening to kill me and actually do. That might change things a bit."

His smile became a smirk, and for a moment I thought that it was gratefulness that I saw in his face, but then he blinked a few times and it was gone. He blinked a few times more, and shook his head, as if ridding himself of the strands of emotion that had somehow wrapped themselves around his apparently 'unfeeling' self.

"Stop being so sappy. It's making me lose my appetite. And that's a shame, because I have four more scoops to go."

I grinned. "Then you better hurry up, because I'm not waiting in the cold for much longer." Vaguely I wondered when I had started smiling so much around him.

He kept licking his ice cream, and then I finished mine, and just kept sitting there, waiting until he finished. I pulled out my phone and checked my texts, seeing if there were any from Granny Relda, who had told me she would text me if anything happened to them, or if she needed me.

There was nothing. Which was probably a good sign, although I really wanted to talk to her, to talk to anyone from my family. It had been two months since I had been able to, and I knew Granny Relda was busy, and she knew I was busy, but still… I missed them.

And then Puck was done too, and he hopped up, stretching (wincing as he moved his arm and yes, I was going to find someone to fix it when we got to Michigan) before he looked over at me.

"Ok hotshot, time to take the great voyage into the unknown."

"Pretty sure Michigan isn't the 'unknown.'"

"No, we're going to my secret lair first, which is not in Michigan and very much unknown."

I just shrugged. "Whatever you say."

"That's the spirit! Now hurry up Sabrina! We have a motorcycle to ride!"

Not that again. I trudged after him, trying to ignore the cold and the wind and the wet that was everywhere and focus on anything else.

Anything else turned out to be the fact that he had called me Sabrina. He had never called me by my real name before. Ever. It had always been Stella, or Sally, or Sarah, or something like that.

But now I was Sabrina.

For some reason, the thought made me smile.

* * *

**So that was my chill-out chapter. Felt like writing some Puck-Sabrina bond time, just because hey, why not?**

**Do you guys like the preview thing? I might go back and add them to all of the last chapters…**

**Oh well. Let me know what you think!**

**-anniepear**

_Preview for Chapter 7_

_I moved my hands, in turn moving the cursor on the screen, and tapped twice to open up the 'poop' folder. Then the 'more poop' folder. There had to be something interesting in here, something worthwhile. I mean, it was an entire folder full of hundreds of documents all chocked full with secrets. That wasn't something you got to see every day._

_I was scrolling down the columns of documents, glancing at the names, but nothing struck me. William Charming, The Dark Warriors, Maleficent, The 001 Project, Faerie…_

_That was when my hand froze, because my eyes had caught something, something that was not only or interesting but important, especially to me. I scrolled back up, and there it was, sitting there plain as day, a document labeled Grimms._


	7. Secret Lairs and Secret Secrets

**Sorry if this chapter isn't so great. In my defense, someone got me sick and now I feel like my face has been run over not once, but multiple times.**

**Not to mention looking at my laptop screen burns my eyes like the fires of hell.**

**Ok, on with the story!**

* * *

**Ch.7: Secret Lairs and Secret Secrets**

Turned out his super-secret lair was still in New York, hidden in the outskirts of the town in some little clump of woods. And compared to his huge, gleaming house, it was definitely super-secret. It took about forty minutes to get there, forty minutes of silence, because the wind was just too loud to talk, so instead I just sat there with my arms wrapped around Puck trying not to squeeze too tight or fall off because I was holding on too loosely.

Eventually we stopped, in what was pretty much the middle of nowhere, and Puck turned off the motorcycle, hopping off with a flourish and gesturing to the patch of trees.

"Welcome, stinkface, to my humble hideout."

I looked around at the trees and dirt and grass. "Humble as in non-existent?" I said as I carefully clambered off of the motorcycle.

He laughed, clapping his hands together in delight. "So much stupidity in one person. I didn't know it was even possible! Maybe when this is all done I'll donate you to science or something- maybe they can figure out why your brain doesn't quite work right."

"Yeah thanks, now can we get on with this?" I said flatly, because I was cold and windblown and my cut was stinging again and I didn't have the patience at the moment to put up with his snarky little comments.

He rolled his eyes. "Take your time Grimm- savor the moment."

"Consider the moment savored. Now come on, where's the base?"

He grinned. "You're looking at it."

I was about to tell him he had a horrible base when he walked up to a tree and pulled of a piece of bark, revealing a little number pad with the digits from 0-9 on it. He looked over at me, smirking, and I reminded myself to not look so surprised next time. It only fed his ego.

He then typed in a set of numbers too fast for me to memorize, and suddenly a large patch of earth shifted away to reveal a tube with a ladder leading underground.

"Whoa," I couldn't help but say.

"Whoa is right," he responded, putting the piece of bark back on before skipping over to the tube, grabbing onto the first rung and climbing down. I guessed I was supposed to follow, so I did, maneuvering down the tube much more slowly, because as soon as I was in, the ground closed over me and made the tunnel almost pitch black, save for a few tiny lights on the wall. I wasn't going to risk falling down the ladder because I couldn't see where I was putting my hands, so I took my time.

I heard when Puck landed, feet clapping against the floor. "You climb that ladder like a little old Granny Sasha! It's adorable!"

I gritted my teeth- so much for being called Sabrina. I should've known he wouldn't give up his most annoying pastime.

"Shut up," I snapped, and then my feet were on the ground.

He flashed a sardonic grin at me, eyes glowing in the shadows. "Follow me," he whispered. And again, I was following him through the darkness, air thick and dank, not even sure where I was, what it looked like in here.

Until, judging by the sudden openness to the air and less cramped feeling, we emerged into a larger room. Lights abruptly flickered on above us, and I could've face palmed myself for the gasp I allowed to slip out. The corridor was huge, sleek metal floors and walls and a ceiling, which was held up by equally as sleek metal columns protruding from the ground in a few key spots of the room. There were a few jets and helicopters in one corner, whole rows of gleaming sports cars besides them, a few glass cases holding outfits like Deadpool's, but slightly different. Shelves of weapons, various gadgets, a desk with some high-tec looking screens, a hot tub (because why not I guess), more motorcycles, a kitchenette, a few dummies missing various limbs, a whole wall covered in what looked like explosion marks and bullet holes (wasn't going to ask about that), and various other things littered across the floor. It was a lot to take in, but Puck just strolled in like he owned the place, which, well, he did.

"My meager palace of me. I know, it's amazing. It's like my unborn child from my metaphorical womb." He sniffed. "I'm just so proud of it!"

Unborn child from metaphorical womb was a bit much, but I was too busy gaping at everything to tell him that.

"Jesus Puck, how much spare time- how much _money_- do you have?"

His back was facing me, but I could picture that grin widening. "More than you'd like to think about." His voice was deep, possessive as he said it, the way it got when you mentioned money. "So, so much more."

Not liking the way his voice got almost dissolute, or the thought of how he got all that money, I changed the subject.

"So, what exactly are we here to get?" I asked. At that, his body seemed to snap up, remembering why he was here (thankfully).

"Right. Scarlet Hand. Right." He hopped over to the high-tec screens on the desk, and as he sat down a holographic keyboard and mouse flickered to life underneath his hands. Seriously? What did he _not _have?

"I don't have a pet giraffe, if you were wondering. It's a shame really, those things are literally the cat's knees. Or the bee's pajamas. Or whatever that weird saying is."

Close enough. I tried not to think about how he had just practically read my mind and instead focused on whatever he was pulling up on the computer.

He clicked on a folder labeled 'poop' and then the subfolder 'more poop,' and it opened up a screen full of a bunch of little documents in neat little rows.

"Poop is secret code for secrets. That way people trying to hack my mainframe will never look in these folders, and by the time they think about maybe looking in them, my security system would have blown their heads off their bodies."

"Oh, and that's happened before?" I asked uneasily.

He looked over his shoulder and his grin turned my stomach. "Do you really want to know that answer?"

I tried to think about the sensitive, not completely ass-like part of him, because maybe it would distract me from the fact that he was a horrible person. That despite whatever little bonding moment I thought we might've just had, he was a monster. For some reason, the realization made me a bit disappointed. I thought maybe he had changed, thought maybe I really _had _been wrong.

It was the first time I didn't want to be right.

He didn't notice my internal struggle, was too busy sifting through the 'more poop' files in the 'poop' folder.

"Hmm," he said a few moments later, tapping on the holographic mouse there to open up the document his cursor was hovering over. My eyes widened when I read the title- Scarlet Hand. I leaned forward, gripping the back Puck's seat.

The document opened, and I scanned the words on the screen. There were a lot less than I wanted, and the words were very vague.

_Tried to hire me for a job four months ago. I declined. _

It was the first line of information on the screen, and the first thing I read.

"They tried to hire you?" I asked.

"Yeah. I've worked for Mirror's guys before, Mirror himself, but never this Scarlet Hand. Must be a pretty new group, because even I hadn't heard of it when they approached me about the job. I guess that's why I didn't recognize the name when Thorner was trying to tell me about it."

"Mm," was my only response. I read the next line.

_Run by Mirror. World domination and stuff. Multiple bases and hideouts. Big base somewhere in U.S._

"How'd you know that?"

Puck shrugged. "I snagged this guy who had been trailing me for a while a few months back. Hung him upside down and threatened to do some less than sanitary things if he didn't tell me who he worked for. Apparently he was with the Scarlet Hand, and apparently they didn't like that I hadn't agreed to their job offer yet, so they had sent this guy to finish me off. It was an insult really, sending such a horrible excuse for an assassin, I'm still upset, I mean the-"

"Puck. Focus."

"Right. And so he fessed up. Said he worked for the Scarlet Hand, said he was trying to kill me to tie up loose ends because whoever the Scarlet Hand messed with that was no longer necessary was cut. I asked where I could find them, and he said they had an assortment of bases, began listing off places like Ontario and Atlanta and D.C. and Sydney and London…"

Sure enough the next line of information was a list of places.

"I asked if they had a central base, a center of operation, and he just grinned and nodded. I asked where and he told me it was here, in the United States, but that I'd never find it. With that he swallowed one of those kill pills that had been stuck in his tooth and that was the end of Mr. McFess-up."

I let the information sink in. "Well, that's helpful I guess."

"You guess? Of course it's helpful! No one else in the world knows this about the Scarlet Hand but me and the people working in Scarlet Hand!"

"Because you tortured some dude."

"For the record, I just _threatened _him with torture."

"So you verbally tortured him."

Puck rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of irritation. "Could you _please _stop being a goodie-two-shoes and focus on the mission at hand? What matters- that one guy had to die to get this information or that we have the fucking information?"

"I'm sure there are other ways of getting it than killing people!"

"Sometimes killing people is the only way! And even if it isn't, it's the easiest option and my personal favorite."

"Fantastic. And it's easy for you? Just killing people?"

"_YES_. What part of assassin-mercenary-killer do you not understand?"

"I don't know, the heartless part! How can you possible just slaughter people without caring?"

And that was the truth. How could he? I had this stupid, false feeling of hope in me that he could be better, but every time I turned around he squashed it with his brutal ways and harsh words and violent choices and the way he managed to laugh at all of it. He was the kind of person you feared and hated, and yet for some reason I kept wanting to _not _fear him, to _not _hate him. My mom had always said I had a way of seeing the best in people, of making them see the best in themselves. But she also told me that some people didn't have a best, some people deserved to just be given up on.

Was he one of those people?

He seemed to sense what I was thinking, what I was feeling, because his smile stretched. "Grimm, there are no such thing as heroes. And in case you didn't notice, if there were, I sure as hell wouldn't be one. So stop thinking otherwise- you're just going to be let down. Trust me, I'd know."

I wanted to protest, but I couldn't, because he had turned back to the computer and in all honesty, I didn't know what I'd say.

"Well, that's all the information I have. I'd say it's some pretty juicy stuff, I could probably sell it for a nice sum of cash…"

He trailed off, looking thoughtful, but at my glare he grinned. "Which I would _never ever_ do if it meant upsetting my favorite side-kick."

This time I rolled my eyes. He looked pleased by that, and hopped out of the chair, the holographic keys and mouse disappearing as he left.

"Ok girly, you stay in here, try not to break anything, and I'm going to pack up on some of my favorite killing things and then go grab some clothes in case I need to go undercover and then come back and we'll leave and go talk to Areye! Look how good my planning is- I'm proud. Are you proud? You should be."

I watched him skip over to the shelves, looking at everything in careful consideration, every once in a while making a little squeal of excitement. All of his weapons shrunk down if he tapped them correctly, so he had room for a _lot _in his belt of pouches. I just stared as he loaded an unnecessary amount of grenades and guns and knives into his belt, and then he grabbed what looked like a rocket launcher.

"This is new!" he said, like a kid on Christmas, and ran over to the wall decorated with scorches and holes. Without warning, he swung the huge gun over at it, fired, and a huge torpedo like thing slammed into the wall, exploding in a cloud of flame and heat and light. I actually screamed, stepping back a bit, but Puck just stood there and laughed.

"Ok, we definitely have to pack that!" he said, slipping it into his pouch, shuffling away from the wall as if this was an everyday thing, just exploding stuff right in front of yourself.

My heart was still thumping as he clapped his hands together and turned to me.

"Are you insane?" was the first thing I said, and it was more of a shout than a question.

"Um, yes? Anywho, I'm going to go get my clothes. Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone."

And then he was gone, opening up a door in the corner I hadn't noticed before, walking into another room. For a few moments, it was silent. Then I looked down at the desk I was standing over. Then I sat down in the chair. Then I lifted my hands over the desktop, and the holograph fluttered to life under me.

I couldn't help but smile.

I moved my hands, in turn moving the cursor on the screen, and tapped twice to open up the 'poop' folder. Then the 'more poop' folder. There _had _tobe something interesting in here, something worthwhile. I mean, it was an entire folder full of hundreds of documents all chocked full with secrets. That wasn't something you got to see every day.

I was scrolling down the columns of documents, glancing at the names, but nothing struck me. _William Charming, The Dark Warriors, Maleficent, The 001 Project, Faerie…_

That was when my hand froze, because my eyes had caught something, something that was not only interesting but important, especially to me. I scrolled back up, and there it was, sitting there plain as day, a document labeled _Grimms_.

Not knowing what to expect, not sure why my stomach was coiling, I clicked on it. The folder opened up, and first was a brief history of my family line. I scanned over it, because I already knew this. Then was the prophecy, the one Thorner had talked about, given by Baba Yaga.

_The Grimms are more than just a family line, they are an idea, a power. They stand for everything in this world that keeps balance- the bridge between the world of mortals and the world of immortals. As long as they live, one cannot dominate over the other. As long as they live, peace will reign. As long as they live, the humans cannot destroy the Everafters. Likewise, as long as they live, the Everafters will never rule over the humans_.

The words sent chills up my spine. No wonder a group that wanted to take over the world wanted my family out of the way. Then I remembered something, something that had been niggling in the back of my head. Hadn't Puck said he didn't know about the prophecy, hadn't he had to worm it out of Thorner to hear it? Hadn't he been as surprised as me when Thorner had told us about this prediction, these few lines of words that made the Everafters want to kill my entire lineage?

Then why in the world was it sitting pretty here on his computer?

Suddenly I felt like I was doing something wrong, felt a strong wave of uneasiness and fear slowly wash over me, drenching me in dread that made my limbs go stiff. I was still sort of afraid of Puck, yes, but not like I had been at first. I had grown used to him in the past days, realizing his threats were just words and that he probably wouldn't kill me.

Only now I was afraid again, terrified, because he had lied, he had pretended he didn't know about the prophecy, and you only lie when you want to keep something from someone, and why would he want to keep it from me unless I _couldn't_ know. Unless he couldn't have me knowing.

Why wouldn't he want me knowing?

My dad used to always say the same thing- lies are malicious, lies mean suspicion and secrets and mistrust. Never believe a liar. Never feel safe with a liar.

And I didn't. Not anymore. And part of me wanted to exit the document and leave the desk and act like nothing had happened and tell myself it was nothing and live in a state of ignorance because _ignorance is bliss_. But I couldn't. I just couldn't.

I kept reading.

My eyes widened.

_Thomas Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1875._

_Miranda Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1882._

_Louise Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1901._

_Harold Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1924._

_Charlotte Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1941._

_William Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1954._

My stomach was sinking lower and lower, a dizzying sense of panic grabbing me and squeezing me and not letting go, just getting tighter as the list got longer. Puck had killed them. Puck had killed members of my own family. Puck had been killing Grimms since the 1800's. It was the last name that made my heart crawl into my throat, that made it hard to breath, that made my heart beat loud enough to actually hear it.

_Basil Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1991._

My grandfather. The grandfather Granny Relda always said got in a tragic accident one day. Only it wasn't a tragic accident. It was Puck. Puck killed my grandfather. Puck had killed seven members of my family over the course of 116 years.

What would stop him from killing me?

That thought was what made me scroll further, despite the way that my hands were shaking and my head seemed fuzzy and I really couldn't believe it because _I was working with I was in the same room as I had slept next to someone who killed them all_.

That's when I saw my name.

_Sabrina Elizabeth Grimm_.

My blood turned cold. I kept reading.

_Sabrina Elizabeth Grimm- 16 years old. Resident of Ferryport Landing, lives with __father__, __mother__, sister, brother, grandmother. __Attends__ Attended Ferryport High School. Currently searching for parents. Target of Scarlet Hand. Mission- kill on sight, do not take hostage._

Mission- kill on sight.

Kill on sight.

Kill.

Mission- kill.

Puck had been lying. He did know more about the Scarlet Hand. The mission he had supposedly 'declined' a few months earlier hadn't actually been 'declined.' The mission was to kill me. Puck was sent to kill me.

Puck was going to kill me.

"Hooooney, I'm hoooome!"

His voice made me jump, and suddenly I was in full panic mode, and I exited out of the documents as quickly as possible, heart beating impossibly fast as I jumped out of the seat, standing up as I watched the keyboard and mouse flicker away.

He was standing there, in his costume, mask not on, probably in one of his pouches. Pouches that were stocked to the brim with knives and guns and grenades and rocket launchers and swords and things that kill and he was going to kill me, his mission was to kill me.

It was only a matter of time. I knew it was coming. And the thought made me more scared than I'd ever been in my life. The sensitive Puck, the joking one I hadn't really minded, was all fake, was all a lie. He was an assassin before he was anything else. A heartless assassin.

_Grimm, there are no such thing as heroes. And in case you didn't notice, if there were, I sure as hell wouldn't be one. So stop thinking otherwise- you're just going to be let down. Trust me, I'd know._

He'd know. He was right. He was no hero. He was a monster.

He arched an eyebrow at me, looking confused. "Hey fart face? You ok? You look pale. If you're gonna throw up, please do it somewhere else. These floors are freshly polished."

I might throw up, maybe, but I swallowed down the nausea. I couldn't let him know, not yet, or he'd just kill me right then and there. No, I'd have to let him think he'd tricked me, and then when we were sleeping, when he wasn't paying attention, I'd have to kill him.

I didn't think I could. My hands were shaking even as I thought about it. But for my sake, for my family's sake, I had to suck it up and do it.

I imagined blood on my hands, his blood, blood everywhere, and it made the nausea increase, so I just took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second, pinching the pad of my thumb to my pointer finger, a trick that had always helped me to calm down.

"I'm not gonna throw up. I just don't like being underground," I lied.

If he was suspicious, he did a good job of hiding it. What else did he do a good job of hiding?

"So, what'd you do while I was gone? Cry over my absence?"

I rolled my eyes, like I always did, but it wasn't like before, it was pushed, forced, painful. "N-no. Definitely not. Rejoiced, more like."

That's right, act natural. Keep up the bickering. He won't suspect a thing.

"Weren't trying to browse the secrets of the world on this baby?" he asked, patting the computer screen. He said it jokingly, but I wondered if that was a cover-up too, if he really suspected it, if he knew.

"Yeah, because searching through the 'more poop' folder in the 'poop' folder is really how I want to spend my time," I said.

He grinned, and his face looked so young, so boyish, dimples and all, and it hurt my stomach, because that face was a mask. For the first time I wondered if his face was more of the mask than his _real _mask. If the face was just a cover for the crazy assassin that was Deadnight, with the red head and white oval eyes that seemed to be watching, always watching. If he was more his costume than he was a boy.

"Come on smellbop, we've got places to be."

I didn't respond, just followed him as out of the room, and the lights turned off behind us, and we were in the dark, cramped hallway again, and the only thing I could feel was my heartbeat, the only thing I could think was that he could do it now, while I couldn't see, he could take a knife and slit my throat and there would be nothing I could do about it.

Only he didn't. We made it to the ladder, and I climbed out first as he followed behind me.

"Could you be any slower?" he groaned.

"Much," I shot back, proud that it sounded normal. When I made it to the top of the ladder, the layer of earth above me automatically shifted away, letting in a burst of sunlight. I crawled out onto the grass, squinting in the brightness, stepping away from the hole.

I could do this. I could do this. It was probably around eleven o'clock, which probably meant around twelve more hours and he'd be asleep. That would be my time. That would be when I saved myself from him.

A second later and he was out too, and the earth covered the hole back up, and he sauntered over to the motorcycle, hopping on easily.

"You coming, or are you just going to stand there?"

"Coming," I growled, climbing on next to him, trying not to feel sick as I wrapped my hands around the boy who had murdered my family.

He started up the motorcycle, only this time when he put in the keys, he turned them the opposite direction, to the left instead of the right.

"What?" I asked, as I felt the machine jolt underneath us. He reached into his pouch and pulled out his mask, putting it on his face.

"It's gonna get cold up there- lucky I have a mask so my nostrils don't freeze. You on the other hand…"

Up where was my first question, but before I could ask it the motorcycle jolted again, and I looked down to see wings sprouting out of the sides.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Nope. It can only fly for six hours straight though. Lucky for us it's super mega fast, so that should be all the time it takes to get to Michigan. Oh, and back to your nostrils freezing."

He pulled something out of his pouch, another mask of some type, though this one looked thicker and warmer than his.

"Put that on, unless you want to become a Grimmsicle. Ha, Grimmsicle. See what I did there?"

I ignored him, and quite frankly didn't want to put anything of his even close to my face, but I pulled on the mask anyway, because come on, common sense- if we were going to be flying and it would be colder up there then on the ground and we'd be going fast enough to get to Michigan in four hours then the wind would be horrible and quite frankly, I would prefer my face being protected too.

The mask was fuzzy and warm and there was some sort of transparent material where the eyes were. So this is what Puck felt like underneath his mask then.

The motorcycle revved up again underneath me, but instead of going forward this time, it began rising off of the ground. I felt my heart speed up, and even though I hated and feared every particle of him at that moment, I latched tighter onto Puck.

"Aw, is poor little Sharon scared?"

I was going to snap that no, I wasn't, but quite suddenly the rising got faster, and then we weren't just rising we were accelerating. And then the accelerating became shooting and just like that we were soaring at what must be over 100 mph through the sky to Michigan. I was either going to be sick or start laughing because it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. The wind was cold and biting and the air sharp as it whipped against my face, but it was breathtaking.

We were travelling too fast to talk, which was probably good, because I didn't know what to say. I was too busy plotting my escape, trying not to think about the fact that I was planning on _killing someone_, or at least hurting him, so that he wouldn't kill me, wouldn't kill anyone from my family again. Because he had killed seven Grimms before me and no way was I letting him take me out too.

I just had to be ready to do it. There could be no holding back. Holding back meant I would die and he would live to possibly kill more- maybe Granny Relda, or Daphne, or Basil. The thought made me sick, but gave me enough motivation to know that I could do it. That I had to do it. I didn't have a choice.

So for six long hours I held onto Puck and watched the world fly by beneath me and steeled myself for that night. I watched the sun rise farther in the sky and then slowly begin to dip down. And then the six hours ended, and I felt the motorcycle slowing down, felt it beginning to descend. The wind stopped hitting me so hard and the ground looked much closer and my stomach wasn't lurching the speed anymore.

The wheels touched down in the parking lot of a Hilton hotel. "We'll stay there tonight," Puck said as he turned off the motorcycle. "Mostly because it's close to-" he threw his arm out wildly at the bar across the street, "the Red Cantina!"

He jumped off the motorcycle, as if his legs weren't made of jello from the flight (which mine very much were), and then gestured to another building, what looked like a bar of sorts. "And also, for those of you who don't know, because that is where Areye hangs out a lot."

I studied the bar suspiciously. "The Red Cantina? Why do all of the places you visit have weird names?"

"Hey, you've visited them too now!"

"And why is this the second bar? I shouldn't even be _allowed _in bars!"

"Oh please, stop being such a worry wart and come on. We have a date with destiny."

"Or a girl."

"Or destiny."

I followed him to the road, scurrying after him as he just sauntered through traffic like a moron.

"So, I'm guessing this isn't an Everafter city?"

Puck snorted. "It's Detroit! Of course it's not."

"But there's still Everafter stuff here?"

"There's Everafter stuff everywhere. The Red Cantina's just a normal bar though. Everafter bars exist though. They have charms to keep pathetic mortals out."

"Gee, thanks."

By that time we were at the Red Cantina's door. It was a new looking building, sleek and stylish, and when we stepped in we were greeted with loud music and flashing lights. The people inside were either talking or sitting at the bar or dancing or laughing wildly in big clumps. It was very loud and I felt very out of place. This wasn't like Boogly's Bar, which was basically a restaurant. This was a bar, a bar bar, and it was crazy and deafening and I wasn't sure I liked it.

Puck, on the other hand, seemed to be very much enjoying it all. "I LOVE IT HERE! NO WONDER AREYE HANGS OUT AT THIS PLACE!" he shouted over the obnoxiously overpowering music.

"I HATE THIS PLACE SO MUCH!" I shouted back.

"WHAT?"

"I ATE YOUR FACE OFF PUCK!" I shouted instead. They sounded enough alike, and Puck obviously didn't hear either one, because he just nodded and laughed, clueless.

"LET'S GO FIND HER!" I said louder.

"HEY, LET'S GO FIND HERE!" he repeated obliviously.

I rolled my eyes and followed him to the corner of the room, where a bartender was cleaning our beer mugs. If he was deterred by the strange suit and mask, he didn't show it. He worked in a bar- probably got stuff like this all the time.

"NEED ANYTHING SIR?"

"YES! I WOULD LIKE TO GET MY FORTUNE READ! IS THE FORTUNE TELLER HERE?"

"YEAH, SHE'S RIGHT THROUGH THE DOORS NEXT TO THE BATHROOM!"

"COOL! THANKS MAN!"

"NO PROBLEM BRO!"

We began walking away and I smiled at the man. "HAVE A NICE DAY!"

"WHAT?"

I bit my lip in irritation. "YOU SMELL LIKE OLD HAY!"

He was just as oblivious as Puck, nodding and smiling. "YEAH, YOU TOO!"

Morons.

I followed Puck to the other corner of the room, to a set of double doors besides the bathroom.

"YOU READY?" he asked.

"YEAH!"

He opened the doors and walked in, and when they closed behind me, the music was much quieter. Almost completely blocked. The first thing I noticed was the strong smell of incense. Then the table in the center of the room, two chairs set up on either side. Then the girl who was sitting in one of the chairs. She was wearing a dark dress, one that looked like it came right out of the Renaissance era (which, if she was an Everafter, it probably did). An ocean of black hair tumbled down her back, and through the translucent veil covering her face I could see full red lips and golden eyes staring at the burning candle in front of her.

She looked up, no doubt ready to greet her next customer, but then her breath caught and her eyes narrowed to slits and a split second later she had knives pressed against both of our necks.

"Nice to see you again, _Deadnight_. And friend. Are you lovebirds ready to die?"

* * *

**Dun-dun-dun.**

**Ok, my chapters are getting longer and longer without my permission…. Oops?**

**I don't believe in too-long chapters though, so you guys will probably have to deal with their length. If it's really an issue though, feel free to tell me. **

**Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I just wanted to let you guys know how much reviews mean to me… pretty sure I'm addicted to them. **

**Yup. That sounds unhealthy.**

**Until next chapter!**

**-anniepear**

_Preview for Chapter 8_

_I thought it would slip out of my hands, the sweat covering them making it hard to hold, as I padded slowly over to him. It probably wasn't smart to stand on the other side of the bed, the side where I could see his face, Puck's face, face devoid of sarcasm and teasing and anger, a face that was soft and peaceful and content._

_I raised the gun up, and for a moment felt like I was shooting a flower, something delicate and innocent. But I wasn't, I knew I wasn't, I told myself I wasn't. My brain shouted at me to pull the trigger, to finish it now, my heart was screaming something else, and I could feel tears slanting my vision, feel my ribcage squeezing in on my heart, my lungs, making it hard to breathe, to think straight._

'_Do it. Kill him.'_


	8. Attempting Murder

**Hello. **

**And on a more excited note.**

**TWO MORE CHAPTERS AND I'LL OFFICIALLY BE ON MY TENTH CHAPTER.**

**w.h.o.a.**

**And I've been thinking about doing something special in my tenth chapter and I have officially decided.**

_**SUPER IMPORTANT AWESOME CAMEO AUTHOR'S NOTE BELOW DON'T SKIP IT!**_

**As you know I (try) to update this story weekly. WELL, here's the deal my awesome readers. If you want to have a cameo in my tenth chapter (show up as a random person somewhere in the chapter) then write a review (a real review) between now and two weeks from now when I post chapter ten. At the end of it, type the word 'cameo' and also write down what you want to do in your cameo. AND write your real name if you want your name to be included in the cameo.**

**For example, I am going to pretend to be someone named Barbara with the username cakegirl:**

Hey anniepear! I love your story! I like cake too! We should totally be friends! CAMEO: can I show up as a girl named Barbara with brown hair and pale skin and can I see Puck and fall in love with him and follow him around the entire chapter trying to hug him and he gets creeped out and eventually he fights me off with a broom or something…? THANKS! LOVE THE STORY!

**Don't laugh, it's the best I could come up with. But get the gist? Goodie.**

**So submit your reviews with the word cameo, what you want in the cameo, and your name if you want it in there too (because I'm not having a girl named cakegirl running rampant in my story) and I'll choose randomly who I want to include in the chapter!**

**Ok, that's all. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Ch.8: Attempting Murder**

I backed up instinctively, the pressure of metal against my neck cold and hard. I could feel my pulse racing against the blade, waiting to be stopped, waiting to be spilled. Puck didn't seem nearly as terrified as me.

"Areye! So nice to see you again? How's the family?" he said, no doubt smiling behind the mask.

"I don't have a family, you asshole. Orphan, remember?" she hissed back.

"Oops, my bad. So anyway, I need a favor."

Areye pushed the knife a bit harder against my skin, the metal making me shiver, but then she removed the knives, sheathing them in the folds of her dress and then putting her hands on her hips.

"Oh really? A favor?"

"Yep, if you don't mind."

"And what if I do fucking mind?"

Puck pulled off his mask, meeting her challenging golden gaze through the thin black veil. "I'll persuade you."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh what? With bullets or with sweet words? Or both? Shake things up a bit."

Puck smirked, taking a step closer, and I was sure she would stab him then and there.

"Only sweet words for you my dear," he said, using the charm that was his angelic face as a weapon. Any girls I knew would probably fall for it too, tremble under the sparkling green eyes and dimply smile and the soft way he spoke. For a moment, it looked like Areye would too. She lifted up the veil, uncovering a beautiful face, rich olive skin and long, dark lashes, high cheekbones and elegant eyebrows, a curtain of glossy, dark hair that framed her face like a wave.

I could practically hear the sappy romantic music as she lifted up a hand, in what I expected to be a gentle caress or something.

It turned out to be a slap. Hard and fast and right across his cheek. Which made me raise an eyebrow. I had been right when I'd said it earlier- sounded like the most intense love hate relationship ever.

"I probably deserved that," Puck laughed after a moment, massaging his cheek.

"You shitting think?" Areye laughed too, but hers was bitter. After that she slapped him again, and then once more on the other cheek.

"Not so sure I deserved those," Puck said, patting the identical red spots on each side of his face.

"Oh, you don't think?"

"Not really."

"Need I remind you, Mr. Pissface, that the last time we met you almost killed me and left me stranded on some island by South Africa."

Puck shrugged. "That's not the worst I could've-"

"AND you took my wand so I had no way of leaving. I had to escape that island by seducing two old, hairy sailors and then killing them and hijacking their ship to South Africa, where I was then captured by a native tribe, tortured by having to sit in their waste pile, and finally fought my way out by flinging shit at all of them and running for my dear life."

Puck couldn't disguise the small smirk working its way onto his lips. "Wow. I even impress myself."

Her hands were reaching for her daggers again but he stopped her by putting a hand on her shoulder. "But come on, you've done the same to me, and you know it."

"Really? The same?"

"Well, not the exact same, but just as bad. I'd say we're about even as of now. And if you help me now I'll be in your debt and I boyscout promise that I will do any favor you ask of me. As long as it doesn't involve me dying. Or humiliating myself."

He raised his hand in what I guessed was the 'boyscout promise,' and Areye narrowed those piercing eyes.

"Hmm. Anything?"

"Anything."

She looked like she wanted to say no, but in the end she just sighed irritably. "Can't believe, out of all the people in this fucking planet, I'm saving your ass."

And then she sat back down, propping her legs up on the table, looking me over as if she had just noticed me. "Who's the quiet ass blonde girl?" she asked, nodding at me.

One thing I was certain about- this girl could curse. If my mom could hear her... well, there would be more than a bar of soap on hand.

"The name's Sabrina. And I'm sorry if I chose being quiet over intruding on your touchy hate party over there."

Areye shrugged. "Don't blame you. What are you doing with this dickhole?"

"Geez Areye! Calm down with the language girl. What, were you raised by pirates?" Puck said, sitting down opposite her.

"Yes. You know that."

Puck blinked. "Right."

"Anyway, do I get an answer?"

I tapped my fingers absently on the table. "He's helping me track down my parents."

She grinned. "So you're not dating then?"

I felt my face flush with anger because never in a million years would I date, in the kind words of Areye, a dickhole like Puck. I happened to have this thing called standards, and he was well below them. "As if. In case you didn't notice, he's sort of a lunatic."

"Noticed. It also doesn't help that he's so devastatingly ugly," she drawled, winking at him over the table.

He rolled his eyes. "Back at you."

She snickered. I guess it was funny because they were two of the most beautiful beings I'd ever seen. Of course, they were still both psychopaths... That kind of ruined anything their exterior tried to make better about them.

Vaguely I wondered if all crazy killers were this good looking. Hardly seemed fair.

"So, parents then. Who are they?"

I shifted where I stood, annoyed Puck hadn't let me sit, because it's easier to fidget without people noticing when you're in a chair behind a table. I wasn't though, so I tried not to make my nervous fiddles obvious.

In all honesty, I didn't think I could trust this girl. And I wasn't ready to throw the word Grimm around when I had already been attacked once now.

"You can trust her," Puck said, practically reading my mind (again).

"Really? Because she was trying to kill us seconds ago."

"Yeah, but if I wasn't trustworthy you'd already be dead by now," she said. She did have a point there.

"Henry and Veronica. Grimm."

She smiled and leaned further back in her chair. "A Grimm! How exciting! I feel like I'm meeting royalty!"

She actually shook my hand too, which was weird. "So, that doesn't make you want to kill me?" I asked cautiously.

She shrugged. "Hey, I'm a tradesperson. A source of intel and secrets. The way I see it, it doesn't matter what your name is or what your species is or who the hell is ruling the world or trying to rule it. Either way, knowledge is power. You can go do whatever the fuck you want with it. But as long as I've got what I need up here-" she tapped to her head, "I'm set for a lifetime."

I nodded, because it _did _make sense.

"Ok, so your parents are kidnapped. By who exactly?"

"The Scarlet Hand," Puck answered, touching his arm gingerly. For a moment the thought of _I really need to get that looked at _flashed through me before I remembered that yes, he killed way too many Grimms and yes, I was somehow ending him tonight.

Right.

"Ah, the Scarlet Hand. Big name, big name," Areye said, looking pleased.

"What do you know about the big name?" I asked firmly.

"Depends. What are you willing to pay?"

Puck's lips twitched slightly. "Hey, favor. Remember? You don't pay for favors."

"You do if they're big ones."

"Yeah, but how can I keep my boyscout promise if you go breaking the rules by making us pay?"

She crossed her arms, but didn't argue.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"HQ location would be nice," Puck offered.

Areye's face scrunched up. "I'm sorry, that's one thing I _don't _know. The big name is very tight-lipped, and good at tying up loose ends. Plus they haven't been around for too long. Sorry big shot. Anything else?"

Puck looked annoyed, so I answered. "People of importance, anything about this Mirror guy. Or maybe the location of Mirror's house…? Just anyone or anything that may be of interest having to do with the Scarlet Hand."

Annie considered this for a moment. "Well, there's Snake, cheesy name I know, but he's one of Mirror's henchman, and a hell of a fighter. He does all of the dirty work. If my sources are correct, he is currently tracking down the Jake guy."

Uncle Jake. Well, that was handy.

"Hansel and Gretel, brother and sister, are probably looking for you, because I know they're still in the States. If you cross paths with one of them, you'll most likely be fine. But if you cross paths with both of them, well, good luck. They've been raised their entire lives to develop a unique style of combat centered around each other- it's like working as a team times a million. Damn intense too. Not something you want to see up close."

She rubbed her shoulder absently, and I figured she had, in face, seen it up close.

"Atticus is probably you're biggest concern though. He's one of the most dangerous men I have ever had the misfortune of meeting."

Puck frowned at this comment. "One of? Which means I am also on this and most definitely above him?"

Areye just rolled her eyes and continued. "He's ruthless, and he excels at creating chaos. Not to mention he's completely insane. They keep him reeled in most of the time, but if they sick him on you too… let's just say I won't be betting on you two to be the ones to make it out."

"Such doubt," Puck said, raising an eyebrow. "I still managed to trap _you, _remember?"

Areye glared at him. "Yeah, but I'm only half as good as that guy. My ego just isn't as big as yours, so I'm willing to admit it."

Puck crossed his arms and pouted.

"Anything else?" I said hopefully, because sure knowing names of people chasing us was good, but not great.

She sighed. "I know Mirror has his own house in Orlando, Florida, only he very rarely is there. I know he has a personal assistant named Ivory- she's probably closest to him, knows the most information, because she is quite literally with him 24/7."

"What about when he has to take a dump?" Puck asked curiously.

"Could you be anymore immature?" Areye snapped.

"It depends- I am at the top of the 'one of the most immature men you have ever had the misfortune of meeting' list yet?"

He grinned hugely as me and Areye tried not to strangle him. Areye took a deep breath and kept talking. "I know the Scarlet Hand has something huge planned for late January, probably an invasion or something, and I think they're hoping you and the rest of your family will be dead by then," she said, gesturing vaguely at me. "I know their nearest base is in Detroit. And I know there's probably someone there that will tell you more if you give them a little incentive."

I nodded. Well, I _guess _that was pretty useful information.

"Is that all?" I asked.

She nodded. "Fresh out, sorry kid. Probably not that useful, but in my defense, I should be dead with that sort of information. Scarlet Hand's good at killing."

"Great. So now that we're done here…" Puck trailed off, standing up and pushing the chair in. I thought he was just going to walk to the door or something, but a moment later knives were whizzing out of his hands, pinning Areye's dress to the chair.

"No hard feelings, I just know you'll follow us, which I can't afford."

She didn't even seem surprised. "You know me so well."

He winked. "Until next time."

"Thanks," I mumbled, following him to the door. His hand was on the knob and he was about to twist it when Areye called his name.

"Oh, and Deadnight?"

"Yep?" he asked, not turning around.

"I just thought you'd want to know that in the past three weeks, I've had five people in here asking me about you. Sounds like they wanted you dead too, by the sound of it."

I watched Puck's face darken. "What did you tell them?"

No response.

"Ar, what the hell did you tell them?" he asked, swinging around and burning a hole through her with fiery green eyes.

"Chillax, I didn't give away anything. Couldn't risk my favorite rival getting killed, could I?" She smiled, and it even managed to look slightly affectionate.

Puck smirked back, nodding, and I gave Areye a last polite smile, because she was different than I thought. Something in her gold eyes gave me the feeling that this wasn't the last I'd be seeing of her. And then Puck opened the door. Music was instantly blasting a hole through my brain as we left the room then left the building, and a minute later we were walking across the street to the hotel.

"Are we going to have dinner somewhere?" I asked, trying to fill the silence, scared he'd find it different, scared he'd suspect something, because now that our immediate mission was over, my personal mission was quickly dawning on me. I wanted to vomit.

"Nah. Not tonight. Not hungry."

"Ok," I said, drawing out the word. I guess that's what happens when you eat ten scoops of ice cream. I ignored the rumbles of my own stomach and walked behind him. "So we're heading back to the hotel?"

"Yepadoo."

I hoped he couldn't see the way my body tensed. I wasn't a killer, not even close. Just the sight of blood could make me lightheaded.

Did I really think I could do this?

Did I really _want _to do this?

We walked into the lobby, and the man gave Puck's suit a onceover. Being human though, he didn't recognize it.

"Cosplay?" he asked nonchalantly as we walked up.

"What?" Puck said.

"Cosplay. You two cosplaying as what, Spiderman and Gwen? Although he has blue in his outfit, and Gwen has bangs, and-"

"If you don't stop talking now and give me my roomkey I will spill your insides over this floor."

The man was unfazed. "Evil Spiderman? I didn't know they made that. Still, way to stay in character pal."

Puck looked extremely confused, but he just rolled his eyes and grabbed the key, walking over to the elevator.

"By the way, Peter Parker has brown hair, not blonde. And it would like better with the mask on!" the man called after.

"Can I pretty please shoot him?" Puck begged as the elevator dinged open.

"No," I said sternly, a bit anxious to step inside because our last trip in an elevator didn't go so well. Puck noticed my nerves, so the entire time going up he kept jumping, shaking the elevator, or saying that he'd heard something outside. I ignored him obviously.

"923, 923, 923," I said, searching for our room as Puck watched someone use the ice machine in fascination.

"Puck, come on," I said, because the man was starting to look freaked out.

"923, 923," I repeated.

"924, 925," Puck added helpfully.

"Puck, that's not really-"

"832. 129. 3,764. 1,926,432. 8,723,124,695. Bet you didn't know I knew numbers that high," he boasted as we walked.

I tried not to punch him.

"Here it is, Room 923," I said, snatching the keycard from Puck and slipping it in. The door opened.

"Ooh, I could get used to this," Puck said. Apparently we had bought a suite. There was a living room that branched off into a kitchenette, and then a separate room with two (yes two) beds.

"Ok, I call showering first," I said, grabbing pajamas out of my bag and heading to the bathroom.

"Take as long as you want, just don't come out until you no longer smell like poo!"

I locked the door behind me, turning to look in the mirror. I watched my reflection as it gnawed its lip, as it looked into its own eyes and wondered _can I really do this_? _Can I really kill someone?_

Part of me argued that it was definitely morally wrong- that I couldn't just go killing people I had a problem with. Hadn't I told Puck that before too? But another part screamed that he deserved it. That he had killed seven of my ancestors, not to mention my grandfather, the same one Granny Relda still cried about some times. And there was the fact that he had lied to me and was currently on a mission to _kill me too_. And if I didn't kill him, he'd kill me. He was just biding his time, waiting to strike. This was probably my only opportunity to have the upper hand. I didn't have a choice.

But even with all of that, could I? Maybe he deserved it, maybe it was the only way to save myself, but did I really have the strength to shoot him, to end someone's life? I still cried when we hit animals on the road. What made me think I could do that to a _real breathing person_? And was it strength at all? Did strength have anything to do with it? Or was it cowardice? Being so scared of a person that killing them was the only option.

_He might kill your family. If he's planning to kill you, if he's working with the Scarlet Hand, he'll probably be sent to kill them too. Granny Relda, Daphne, Basil. _

I couldn't let that happen. I just couldn't. I started this little journey to reunite my family again, not to watch some psycho tear us even farther apart.

I squeezed my trembling hands together and stared at my reflection, dead in its wide blue eyes. I had to do this. For my family. It might be hard for me, might give me nightmares, might make me a horrible person, might make me hate myself, but for my family, I'd risk it.

I let out a sigh and stepped into the shower, trying not to think about the fact that I was planning on killing the boy only a few dozen feet away. The thought made me sick to my stomach.

I finished my shower, pulling on the same pajamas as the night before, walking out with what I hoped was confidence.

"Can you believe it! World's Cutest Animals is on- _again_! Could my life get any better?"

Yes, yes it could.

"No, probably not," I said instead, trying to act casual as I sat down on the other bed, running a hand through my wet tendrils of hair.

"Ok, well, time for me to clean up. Gag."

He didn't grab anything, just skipped right into the bathroom. I tried to control my breathing.

Ten minutes later and he was back out, wearing a loose white T-shirt and plaid sweatpants, curls wet and plastered to his head, looking for all the world like a normal boy.

"Shiny squiggidy so clean and wiggidy."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Made that up just now. In the shower. True art, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask."

"I know. But I could hear you thinking it."

"I wasn't."

He rolled his eyes. "Jesus Grimm, it's called going along with things."

"It's called not wanting to go along with things."

He rolled his eyes. Again. "Whatever lame-o. I am going-" he did a little jazz step, "to bed."

For some reason, something inside me shuddered. _It's coming it's coming I'm gonna have to do it I'm gonna have to_.

"Already? It's only-" I checked my watch, "9:43."

Puck yawned. "I know, I feel like one of those baby stick-in-the-mud's going to sleep this early, but quite frankly, I don't really care. I'm tired. Plus I got attacked, and flew a motorcycle for six hours straight. I think I deserve it."

I couldn't argue with that, don't know why I was in the first place. Shouldn't I be trying to get this over with as soon as possible?

"Ok," I said.

"Ok," Puck said.

He nodded. I nodded. Then he hopped into his bed, turning off the light on his side of the room, pulling himself under the covers, back to me. There was enough light on my side of the room that I could still see him, and so I just stared at his back, at the curve of the blankets over his body, watching it rise and fall. I watched rather than heard his breathing even out, and even after I was positive he was asleep, I waited longer, just in case.

And then, I stood. My body was shaking, hard, and I couldn't stop it, and I didn't want to kill him, didn't want to kill _anyone_, but at the same time I knew I had to. I felt like I was in a dream, heart pounding in a panicked rush, head beating along with it.

_Monster, monster, monster_. The words echoed in my brain with each vicious pulse.

_Killer, killer, killer._

Were the words talking about me, or Puck? I couldn't tell anymore. I kept a gun, a small thing from my father, with me at all times, secure in the bottom of my booksack. I watched my own trembling hands reach in and pull it out. It was cold, hard, unfeeling. Ready to do my will, not caring who it shot, who it killed.

I thought it would slip out of my hands, the sweat covering them making it hard to hold, as I padded slowly over to him. It probably wasn't smart to stand on the other side of the bed, the side where I could see his face, _Puck_'s face, face devoid of sarcasm and teasing and anger, a face that was soft and peaceful and content in sleep.

I raised the gun up, and for a moment felt like I was shooting a flower, something delicate and innocent. But I wasn't, I knew I wasn't, I told myself I wasn't. My brain shouted at me to pull the trigger, to finish it now, but my heart was screaming something else, and I could feel tears slanting my vision, feel my ribcage squeezing in on my heart, my lungs, making it hard to breathe, to think straight.

_Do it_. _Kill him._

I closed my eyes, fingers itching on the trigger. I was about to pull it, I _knew _I was, I _would've_, but suddenly I heard shifting below me, heard a confused, "Sabrina?"

My eyes flashed open, and his eyebrows were drawn in, furrowed, deep, confused, hurt. The feelings were quickly replaced with anger. His hand whipped out from under the covers, twisting my wrist, making me drop the gun.

I was petrified for a second. I blew it. I blew my cover. I could've ended it, but I didn't. Now he knew _I _knew, now he was definitely not going to waste any time killing me. He was going to do it now. I was going to die in this very room.

Instinctively, I swung with my other hand, managing to land a punch square on his jaw before his feet were out of the bed too, pushing against my chest, making me stumble backwards. He kicked the gun up, plucking it out of the air and pointing it at me, eyes thick with betrayal and fury.

"Really? This is how you repay me? _Really_?"

"You're gonna go there? You filthy liar," I spat, lunging forward. He could've shot me, but he didn't. Instead used his other hand (the injured one), to grab my forearm and twist, flipping me over. I landed flat on my face, but managed to scramble backwards, hands up in defense.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and he actually sounded confused, which just made the fury boiling inside me overflow.

"What do I mean? What do I _mean_? I mean I looked in your stupid 'poop' folder and saw the truth, _Deadnight_. It means I saw that you killed seven, _seven _of my ancestors, including my grandfather! _My grandfather!_ I've seen my grandmother, my father, crying over his death! And here I am knowing you killed him, knowing you killed my grandfather, knowing you killed my family, and you didn't even bother to mention it? To apologize? Something along the line of _oh yeah, and I've been hunting down and killing your family members since 1875_?

"On top of that, I saw the other part of that document, the one saying you accepted that mission from the Scarlet Hand you told me you had declined. That mission to kill _me_. What, did you think it was funny? Watching me trust you with my family's life when you were just going to turn around and stab me in the back? Did you want to see how long it would take? Did you want to see how desperate I was, how far I'd go, to get them back? How could you? _How could you_? You sick, manipulative monster."

I was panting, still pushed up against the wall, and he hadn't moved the entire time, sitting there as my shouts and screams washed over him.

"Sabrina, I-"

"You what? You were planning on telling me later? After I was already dead?"

Puck rolled his eyes and dropped the gun. "Stop being so melodramatic and just _listen_, would you?"

I tried to reach out for the gun, because I was still sure he was going to kill me, but he kicked it away, under the bed.

"Nuh-uh Grimmster. Close your trap and listen to Daddy Puck's story."

"Yeah, have fun explaining all of the blood you've spilled in my family," I hissed.

He bit his bottom lip and looked at the floor for a moment before looking back at me, and when his eyes met mine they were closest he could probably get to sincere.

"I'll admit, I _did _kill your ancestors. Seven of them. I'm a mercenary though, what do you expect? People offered good money and I couldn't refuse and I didn't even _know _who the legendary Grimms were. To me, they were just another target. I took them out, just like I have always done. It was no different. It was nothing personal. Scarlet Hand hadn't even existed back then. It was just Everafters who had a grudge against them."

He was still chewing his lip, looking uncertain, eyes flickering from me to the floor to the ceiling and back to me. Like Basil when my mom fussed him for sneaking extra cookies from the bowl.

"And your grandfather, well, he was the same. Just another kill. Although I didn't mean for it to hurt you… or your family."

It was the closest he'd probably come to an apology.

"Oh what, you never think about the damage you leave behind when you kill people? The broken families and broken hurts, the wave of grief you leave in your wake? Do you ever just stop to _consider _that?" I snapped back harshly.

His hands were fingering each other pensively. "Um…no? I have better things to do then-"

"Then think about all of the people you've injured just because _you _have no heart and _you _have no conscience? The entire world does not gravitate around you, you know."

He glared at me, but it wasn't as strong as it could've been. "That's why you're here, Grimm. That's why you had to ask me. Because of that. Because I can do horrible things, can kill people, and not care- it's what makes me so good at what I do. It's why I'm the best. It's why you chose _me _to find your parents."

He said it firmly, but something was dancing in his eyes, something like doubt, like pain and confusion. And despite the anger still rooted in me, I might've actually felt bad for him. So convinced he didn't care. How could you live like that?

"And about you… Yes, I accepted that mission from the Scarlet Hand four months ago. You were just going to be another kill on my list. I hadn't even started the mission though, hadn't even figured out what you looked like yet, when _you _found _me_. Sure, I didn't know it was you at first, but I had a hunch. I accepted the mission, and when you finally confessed, well, I wasn't totally surprised.

"And then I had to decide whether to kill you right there and deliver your head to my Scarlet Hand employers for a very pretty pile of pennies or whether to turn my back on the most dangerous and best paying group I've ever worked with and risk death by helping you. And you know what I did? I'm pretty sure you do. Because _here we are_."

I was still glaring at him, but something was beginning to sink in, his words coiling around in my stomach, knotting and then loosening and then knotting again.

"So, you mean, you chose me over money?"

The words made his face red with anger, I didn't really know why, and he snapped back, "No, I just don't like the Scarlet Hand. I don't choose _anyone _over money. Money is all I have. I have my money and I have my knives and I have my guns and I have my secret lairs and I have my training and…"

He trailed off, whipping around suddenly, squeezing his head tightly, as if to keep something in, or to block something out.

"And I don't have feelings and I don't have friends and I don't have loyalty and I don't have a conscience and I don't have a heart and I don't… I don't…"

It was a mantra, a dangerous one, a sad one, and in that moment he had gone from Puck who I was about to kill, Puck who I was certain was about to kill _me_, to Puck who had indirectly saved my life, who had for some reason chosen to spare me.

I stood up on shaky limbs, a weird combination of relief and pity and sympathy and confusion making me walk over to him, where he was still holding his head as if it would fall apart if he let go. Not really knowing what I had done to set him off, I just placed a small hand on his back. It was the first time I had voluntarily touched him, not to hang on to him while riding the motorcycle, or to wrap around him as we swung to our death, but because I chose to. He flinched away from my hand, breathing heavily, turning to look at me with dark eyes.

"Puck, I don't care what you have and what you don't have. And yes, I am still mad that you killed my relatives, will never forget that, but you didn't know who they were, and I even if I can't forget what you did, I _can_ forgive it. It may take time, but it's not like you were purposely hurting my family- just taking down targets, accomplishing missions. Nothing personal, although I can't say it's ok because either way, killing people blindly is _wrong_. But on another note, you _didn't_ kill me. You saved me. And now you're helping me find my parents for what I'm sure is much less money than the Scarlet Hand offered. And I don't need to know why, you don't need to know why, I just want you to know that… well… I'm grateful."

Puck's eyes were huge, never leaving mine, and it was like I was soothing a small child, the way he hung onto my every word. How was it possible that he could be so indifferent and so carefree and so oblivious to emotions and then stuff like this could happen- feelings so strong that they almost crippled him. This boy, whose lips were set in a quiet frown, whose eyebrows were crunched together, furrowed deep with confusion and _hurt, _so low that they cast shadows over his eyes- this boy, whose wild golden curls were dancing in all directions from being pressed against a pillow, whose deep green eyes were impossibly wide and full of _something_ as he watched me.

"You're… grateful?"

I nodded, willing him to understand, to calm down. "Yes. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you."

"Yeah, but _I _was the one who would've killed you."

"The point is that you didn't."

He stared at me for a few long moments, eyes confused, so so confused, and lost.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, for exactly what I didn't know, and then he turned around, headed back to his bed, and laid down. I stood there, watching as he pulled the covers up to his chin, as he turned on his side so that he was no longer facing me.

I didn't respond, instead walking to my own bed, pulling myself in, tired and relieved, that I didn't have to kill anyone, that I was alive, that Puck hadn't killed me, that I felt, for some reason, that I could trust the insane assassin.

I knew he wasn't sleeping, because I had watched him fall asleep earlier, watched his breathing and his shape under the covers, and he was much too tense now, too rigid, breathing too fast to really be sleeping. I could imagine him, eyes open, green orbs staring through the darkness, at what I didn't know.

He didn't move, didn't fall asleep, and his too stiff body was the last thing I saw before my own eyes slipped closed.

* * *

**PUUUUUCK. My poor, sad little baby. I just want to go hug him and tell him he's awesome and give him cookies and stuff.**

**Ok, moving on though.**

**Remember the cameo if you want in! As always, love you guys and your support!**

**-anniepear**

_Preview for Chapter 9_

"_Eventually? Puck, eventually doesn't cut it! It is purple and it is huge and it is freaking crooked for crying out loud! No, we are going to the hospital."_

"_But Griiiiiiiiiiimmmmm," he whined._

"_No. Nu-uh. We are going now, like right now."_

"_I think you're overre-"_

"_If you don't get on the motorcycle now I will find some way to knock you out and then drag your unconscious ass all the way to the hospital. Now, are we going to take that path, or the path where you just agree and we go to the hospital?"_

_He looked like he wanted to argue, but really, no one wanted to be dragged unconscious through the streets of Michigan. So in the end he just settled for a pout, attempting to cross his arms over each other, biting his lip when he tried, and then settling for just standing there looking upset._

"_Now get on. I'm driving," I commanded. _


	9. Broken Body Parts

**Ok everyone. Chapter nine. Thanks everyone for reviewing- you people seriously rock. **

**Again, SUBMIT YOUR CAMEOS IF YOU WANT THEM IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!**

**Write your review, what you want your cameo to be, and the name of the person in the cameo (if you want a name that is).**

**Boom. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.**

**(and sorry this took two weeks to update. Not only did I have buttloads of tests and homework, but writers block is starting to hit and boy is it hitting hard)**

**Ok, let's get this show on the road.**

* * *

**Ch.9: Broken Body Parts**

When I woke up, Puck was no longer in bed. It was the first thing I noticed, since it was the sight I had fallen asleep to. I sat up, suddenly worried, but then I saw him on the couch in the corner. His legs were crossed over each other, elbows propped up on his knees and face resting in his hands. His back was bent, rigid, and his eyes were shadowed with memories. Not to mention the dark smudges under them. Looks like he hadn't slept at all.

"You ok?" I asked cautiously as I swung my legs over the side of my bed, standing up. His eyes briefly flickered over to mine before returning to staring at nothing. He nodded sharply.

"Ok, that's, uh, good." His silence was unnerving, to say the least, and I b-lined straight to the bathroom. I closed the door, sighing, looking at my T-shirt and sweatshirt from yesterday in the sink- the ones that had been stained with blood. I forgot even putting them there the night before, being too busy focusing on other things (mainly my attempt at killing Puck). Luckily though, I had remembered to rinse them in the always full bottle of magic quick-wash Daphne gave me (because yes, I had to keep my clothes clean somehow and quick-wash was fast and worked like a charm). Now they were sparkling clean and dry and smelled like roses and weren't covered in blotchy blood stains. Handy.

I walked out, putting them in my bag, trying not to focus on Puck, who was still sitting there, very distant and very quiet and it was just _scary_. I began whistling, anything to fill the horrible quiet, as I grabbed my change of clothes out of my bag and headed back to the bathroom.

I pulled on a pair of black tights, a long, baggy sweatshirt, and my worn down combat boots before walking back out the bathroom, hoping there'd be some sort of improvement.

Nope. Puck was still sitting there.

I crept back into the bathroom, brushing my teeth.

Poked my head out. Still sitting.

Poked my head in. Spit out the toothpaste and water in my mouth.

Poked my head out. Still sitting.

Poked my head in. Pulled my hair into a loose bun.

Poked my head out. Still sitting.

Poked my head in. Touched an annoying bump that looked suspiciously like a pimple on my nose.

Poked my head out. Still sitting.

Poked my head in. Looked at myself in the mirror. "Come on Grimm," I muttered, and then I walked out.

"So, Puck, you wanna get some breakfast?"

He nodded, this time not even looking at me. Ok, I didn't think that could be considered an improvement. I sighed, taking a step closer, noticing the way his eyes flicked momentarily towards me. That was good. At least he was acknowledging my presence again.

"Um, you sure you're ok?" I pressed awkwardly, because I didn't like this Puck. It made me uneasy.

"And don't you dare just nod again," I said as I saw his head raise a fraction. Some of the darkness left his eyes and I swore that was a smirk on his lips.

I took the risk and sat down on the couch opposite him. "So, what's up?" I asked.

He huffed. "Why do you even care?"

"Because, you're giving off bad vibes. And I want today to go nicely, as in no one attacking us on elevators. And bad vibes are just making me negative and now I'm scared something might happen, someone might attack us. So you see, it's an endless circle of negativity, all because of your bad vibes."

"Thanks for the illustration," he said flatly.

I let out a long breath. "Are you gonna tell me?"

"It's just… memories."

"Memories. Remember what I told you when we were eating ice cream?"

"I try not to."

"I said I'd be willing to listen to anything you had to say."

He gave me a look, half irritation and half gratitude, and then sighed loudly, maybe a little overdramatically, but I didn't comment on it.

"Ok, then I'm asking a question," he said, and I wondered if he was telling me or convincing himself to do it.

"Ok," I prompted, trying to be nice, because I didn't want a repeat of yesterday, and I still felt bad for almost killing him, and so what if it was as stupid as Moth's crazy ideas, but I had hope that he could be better. Maybe he just needed some kindness to lead him towards it. I doubted he got much of that. I doubted there was much to go around in his business.

"Do you think a person can be worthless?"

I sure hadn't been expecting that one. But with the earnest way he was watching me, I was sure it had something to do with his past, so I chose my words carefully.

"I think people can mess up, and make mistakes, and do bad things, and go down a bad path or make the wrong decision. I think people can sometimes be terrible and sometimes be wonderful, but worthless? To have absolutely no worth, no meaning, no purpose on this world? No. The way I look at it, someone put us all here. And why put us here for no reason?"

He was still staring at me, like I wasn't supposed to be done yet, so I kept going. "No, I think everyone has a purpose and everyone has worth and everyone matters somehow, if it's to one person or to a whole country. Everyone is on this Earth for some reason, they just need to find it."

And that was a taste of Dr. Grimm ladies and gentlemen. Cheesy, I know, but it was the best I could do. But it seemed something I said was right, because those green eyes cleared a little, and the Puck underneath all of those layers of defense was smiling.

"Such insight Grimm. You should have a talk show or something. Kick Oprah right off her game."

I snorted. "As if." Then I raised an eyebrow. "Anything else you want to tell me? Anything at all?"

He bit his lip and shook his head, and I stood up to leave, but suddenly he said, "wait," so quietly I thought maybe I'd been imagining things. I turned around, a bit surprised. Since when was he so open? Since when did he rely on me? Since when did he even show emotion?

"I'm sorry about last night. Really, I just sort of lost it and-"

"You're sorry? Puck, I could've killed you. Almost did."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be so melodramatic. As if _you _could kill _me_."

"Thanks for the support," I muttered.

"My pleasure," he said with a grin.

We were both silent for a few moments. This time he was standing up when I called him back with an insistent "Puck."

"Hm?"

"The whole 'all I have is money' and 'I don't have friends or feelings' thing."

He shifted his weight, looking defensive, eyes narrowing.

"What about it?"

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"What do you mean it doesn't have to be that way? Of course it does."

"No, it really doesn't. _You _choose what to do with_ your _life. You don't have to be heartless, you don't have to only care about money and killing and all that stuff. It's a choice."

"It's most definitely not a choice, it's just who I am, and even if it was a choice, it would be the one I'd choose, and even if I wasn't allowed to choose, it's already been chosen for me. My life is perfect how it is and I don't need overemotional teenage girls telling me otherwise. Go spread your hormones and cooties and stuff somewhere else."

He stomped off to the bathroom and I put my head in my hands. Talking to him was like walking through a field of landmines. Watch your step, be super careful, tread around everything on your tip toes and you'd be fine. But the second you misstep, the moment you make a comment he doesn't like- well, once you step on the mine there's no going back. You can try and step off, of course. But by then it's already exploded.

"Ugh," was the word that pretty summed that thought process up. I stood up, stretching, grabbing my booksack and slinging it over my shoulder. I would miss this hotel. It was nice. It had a kitchenette. And two beds.

I listened for the sound of showering stopped (I decided he was taking the shower more for relaxation, considering he had taken one just last night- in his defense, I had almost shot him; I would want a relaxation shower too), waited for him to come out, and when he did, I raised an eyebrow, and was pretty sure my mouth dropped open a bit. Ordinary, normal person clothes. Not a Deadnight costume. Just average human clothes. Tight black jeans, a loose gray sweatshirt, faded black boots that cut off at his ankles, and a dark olive beanie that pulled his curls back, besides the few golden strands that were sticking out beside his ears.

I blinked.

"What are you wearing?"

His face reddened. "What does it look like I'm wearing? Would you prefer if I went out naked?" His frown turned into a smirk in no time. "Because, I mean, if that's what you want-"

"No. _No_. God no."

He was still smirking. I gave him my best glare.

"I was just wondering, where's the Deadnight costume? I had gotten used to that thing."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Are all humans this stupid?"

"Are all Everafters this-"

"Remember what Areye said? About people tracking me? Well guess what? There's not a very many people who know what the face under the mask looks like. This face." He gestured unnecessarily at his face. "Walking around like this means no one will know who I am, which means no assassins will come after me. Tracking?"

"Makes sense. What about the assassins after me though? They know what I look like."

"What a shame. If only I could say I was worried for you."

I rolled my eyes and walked out of the room. Puck followed.

"So, the real question is what I want to eat. There's hotel breakfast, and then there's restaurant breakfast. And then there's stealing out of garbage cans, but that's not really an option. Unless that's what you want of course. I could watch you hobo-it from my own little table inside some nice restaurant."

I nodded, smiling slightly, not really paying attention to what he was saying, still staring at his choice of clothing.

"What?" he said irritably when he noticed, stopping beside the elevator and then turning to face me.

"Nothing," I said, but my smile widened.

There was silence for a bit, then, "You dress like Harry Styles."

He groaned loudly. "Could we not talk about my sense of style? I feel like there's some more important things going on here like, um I don't know, the freaking Scarlet Hand! And besides, these are just my incognito clothes. And if you like them so much, go talk to Moth about them. She buys me all of this stuff anyway!"

"Ok, ok," I said, but I couldn't stop smiling.

Another short silence.

"That's not a bad thing you know. It's actually a compliment. Harry Styles has very good fashion sense. Like _super _good. I personally love the clothes he-"

Puck interrupted me by banging his head against the wall, repeatedly.

"Ok, I'm done."

At least this time the silence lasted a bit longer.

"You know, you have hair like him too, but his is darker. And dimples like him. Maybe you're like the Everafter version of Harry Styles, although I'm pretty sure he's not an assassin. I don't know, can you sing?"

"UGH. I don't even know who this 'Harry Styles' person is, so can we _please _stop comparing him to me. _Puh-lease_."

"Alright, alright," I said, but I was still grinning as we entered the elevator. I could understand why Moth bought him the clothes- they looked natural on him. Not many people could pull the look off, but he certainly managed. Beyond managed. The thoughts trailed away though as the elevator began moving and I squeezed my hands together. Great, now I had elevator PTSD.

When the elevators opened again, I let out a sigh of relief. "I think I'm permanently damaged from that guy attacking us," I said as we walked towards the lobby desk. The look Puck gave the man at the desk was smug, as if he was proud the man could no longer accuse him of cosplaying as Spiderman. I vaguely wondered if that was another reason he had chosen to wear normal clothes… the Deadnight suit may be a symbol of fear to Everafters, but to the humans of Michigan it was just weird.

"So, where exactly are we going?" I asked once we were out of the hotel and I realized I had no idea what we were doing next.

Puck looked at me like it was obvious, and when I didn't have the epiphany he was expecting, he rolled his eyes. "Breakfast of course."

"I meant _after _breakfast."

"Uh, Reindeer's Antlers of course."

I counted to ten in my head.

"You're telling me we are going to eat food, drive however long it takes us to get to Detroit, simply for the purpose of then eating _more food_?"

Puck shrugged as he walked. "Yeah, I don't see a problem."

"Of course you don't," I muttered. "You do realize that we're wasting a whole day that could be spent tracking my parents because _you _want to go eat at some stupid restaurant?"

"Um, yeah. I thought that was fairly obvious."

"Puck, my parents could _die_!"

"Relax Grimm, they're not going anywhere. Why would the Scarlet Hand take them prisoner for information only to kill them? And remember Thorner? He said Mirror was planning on keeping them alive. Problem solved, question answered, thanks for asking."

"I didn't even _ask _a question!" I snapped back.

"Close enough! Stop being a grammar police."

"I wouldn't have to _be _a grammar police if you would just use your brain when you talked!"

"At least I _have _a brain!"

"At least I _have _a sense of hygiene!"

"Excuse me? I showered last night!"

"HEY!"

We both froze and looked up at the man looking down at us from a balcony of the hotel. "Could the old married couple keep it down a bit?" he shouted angrily.

"I will detach your head from your body!" Puck shouted back while I felt myself turn bright red.

"You wanna go punk? Come up here and I'll take you right now!"

"Ok buddy, you just wait there, I'll be right up."

He turned to storm off in the other direction, but I grabbed him by the back of his sweatshirt and pulled him away from the hotel. He was shouting profanities at both me and the man, but I wasn't shouting back. The man… well… that's a different story.

"Yeah you better run!" Puck shouted as the man gave a very rude gesture, went back into the room, and closed the door to the balcony. Puck smiled smugly. "Coward."

I rolled my eyes, finally releasing his sweatshirt. We were standing beside the motorcycle, and Puck looked down at it disdainfully. "So much driving," he said.

"Sorry buddy. You chose the motorcycle, remember."

He glared at me. "I don't see you driving it," he said accusingly.

"That's because I don't want to!"

He snorted. "Liar. You probably can't." Then he looked down at his hands, then at the motorcycle, and then sighed loudly. "But I don't _wanna_!"

"Oh please. It's easy. Put your hands here and get on and-" I stopped, because when I had pulled his hands onto the handles he had suddenly winced, a hiss of air escaping from between his gritted teeth as he yanked his hands away from mine.

I scoffed. "Oh please, are you allergic to girls now? I wouldn't put it past you. Is that Rule 16: you must be allergic to the cooties of the female race and-"

I stopped again when I saw him absently poking at his arm through his sweatshirt, eyebrows drawn together. I remembered how the man had taken him, had slammed him against the wall, remembered the sickening snapping sound. I frowned.

"Puck?"

"Yeah?"

"When you said your wrist was broken… how badly broken?"

Puck gave me a lopsided grin. "What if I told you I thought it was more than my wrist? Would that freak you out? Because I don't wanna freak you out or anything but…"

I (carefully) snatched at his arm and pulled back the sweatshirt sleeve. My eyes must've grown pretty big, because Puck snickered.

"Oh please, it's not even that bad. Although I can't really feel my fingers that much, and it hurts to move it, but nothing I can't deal with, so really-"

"Puck! How could you _not _tell me about this! Your arm is, it's, well, it's-"

"Broken?" Puck supplied lamely.

"Broken!" I was still staring at it, because Jesus, it did not look good. The entire arm was swollen twice its usual side, decorated with ugly bruises of a dark purple and black. Not to mention that it was _bent_, a curve in his forearm that did not belong there. The sight made bile rise in my throat, but I swallowed it down and told myself to be calm.

"How the _hell _have you been running around with this thing?" I said, gesturing wildly at the offending limb.

Puck raised his nose defiantly. "I happen to have a very high tolerance for pain, and would have you know that for things as petty as this I don't go to the hospital or get a c-"

I just _tapped _his arm and his words were cut off as he pulled it back against him, cradling it against his chest.

"What were you saying?" I said triumphantly. He looked irritated.

"Listen cabbage patch, I'll let you in on a secret. During my little mission things, I don't take care of things like this. I'm an Everafter- eventually it'll heal over time."

"Eventually? Puck, eventually doesn't cut it! It is purple and it is huge and it is freaking _crooked _for crying out loud! No, we are going to the hospital."

"But Griiiiiiiiiiimmmmm," he whined.

"No. Nu-uh. We are going now, like right now."

"I think you're overre-"

"If you don't get on the motorcycle now I will find some way to knock you out and then drag your unconscious ass all the way to the hospital. Now, are we going to take that path, or the path where you just agree with me?"

He looked like he wanted to argue, but really, no one wanted to be dragged unconscious through the streets of Michigan. So in the end he just settled for a pout, attempting to cross his arms over each other, biting his lip when he tried, and then settling for just standing there looking upset.

"Now get on. I'm driving," I commanded.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? _You're _driving?"

"Yep. I'm grew up driving these babies- what do you think my dad did with me in our spare time?"

"I don't know, play paddi-cake or something?" Puck asked blankly.

"Well, you'd be wrong," I said flatly, pulling myself onto the too-tall motorcycle, adjusting my feet, twisting the keys in the ignition. The engine roared to life, and Puck was still just staring at me, dumbfounded.

"Well, are you coming?"

He just shook his head in disbelief and climbed on. "Out of things all of the things in this entire universe that could've happened today, I was not expecting this one," he mumbled as he sat down, wrapping one arm around my waist as the other laid uselessly against my back. I tried not to pay attention to the hand pressed against my bellybutton and squeezed the right handlebar. The motorcycle jumped forward and suddenly we were speeding down the streets to Detroit.

Puck's hand tightened, and somehow through all of the wind whipping our faces I was acutely aware of the breaths he was puffing against my neck.

"Do you even know where we're going?" Puck shouted, words brushing the lobe of my ear.

"Yes! Lucky for you I've been to Michigan before! We're taking the interstate all the way to Detroit- there's a hospital there that'll hopefully treat your dumb ass!" I shouted back.

Two left turns, a right turn, a whole lot of driving in a straight line, and one left turn later and we were in the parking lot of the Henry Ford Medical Center of Detroit. I turned off the motorcycle, putting the keys in my pocket, and climbed off. Despite how confident I had been driving it, the thing was horrible getting on to.

"Wow girly, I'm impressed," Puck said as he climbed down. His descent was unusually awkward too, which I blamed on the arm. I glanced at it- grotesque as ever.

I smirked. "About time you said that. I'd have thought you'd come to that conclusion much earlier."

He snorted. "What? With your falling in the snow and whatnot? Wait, if you could drive a motorcycle so well, why'd you fall off?"

"I've never ridden behind someone."

"Seriously? Your dad just _let _you drive it on your own? Without him?"

I nodded. "What can I say? I was a natural."

He rolled his eyes as I began walking towards the hospital. He (begrudgingly) followed.

"This is stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupid times infinity."

I didn't respond, because I had just opened the doors, and was walking into the clean, white waiting room. I walked Puck over to the counter where a petite young woman was standing, watching us.

"Hello. What may I help you with this morning?"

"This lunatic has a broken arm. I've never been to this hospital so, well, I don't know where to bring him," I trailed off, suddenly realizing how out of my depth I was.

The woman smiled. "That's fine darling. If you wait here, we'll take him and get this little situation sorted out." She glanced down at his arm, where the sleeve was still rolled up, showing off the colorful mess.

I smiled gratefully, and nudged Puck towards the woman. He gave her a dangerous look. "Touch me and you'll die."

She laughed uneasily and murmured a "follow me, this way," walking towards the doors behind her. He looked over his shoulder and shot me a 'I hate this already' look. I grinned in return. Then he disappeared behind the doors.

I let out a long breath and walked over to a chair, plopping down in it. I felt the worry that had been nagging at the back of my mind rise forward now that I didn't have anything else to concentrate on. I swear, that boy was going to be the death of me.

I frowned slightly at the possible truth in those words.

But no, I trusted him. More, at least, than I had at first.

One minute became ten minutes became an hour, an hour of me browsing boring magazines, before the bird-like woman returned. "You're friend has been all fixed up dear. If you'd like to go see him now-"

"Yes, please."

"Ok, right this way."

I followed her through the doors she had taken Puck through, down a hallway of doors and doctors and people, and then we came to another door, different than the others, locked with a key the woman had to take out and insert.

"What?" I asked dumbly. She smiled.

"We scan for Everafters here, darling. Little sensors in the ceiling can detect the difference in genes between us and humans."

Us. Great.

"So you're telling me," I began, as she opened the door, we walked in, and she closed it behind us, "that even _hospitals _have special Everafter sections? How did I not know about this?"

"Because you're a human. Humans don't need to know."

I grumbled something about humans and needing to know as we walked down the hallway. This one wasn't much different, only the glimpses I saw at the patients sometimes revealed less than ordinary things. Like people the size of lawn gnomes, or scaly humanoid things, or tall things covered in fur.

The woman didn't stop smiling, as if this was all very normal. I kept gawking.

"This is the Y Wing. Y as in Yeteroph which is the name we classify the 'magic' gene with. As you can see, the Y Wing is much more evolved than the quarters we treat _your _kind in."

My kind? I didn't respond though, because she was right. Patients were being pushed around in hovering gurneys, people were carrying around tools I'd never seen before, and someone was injecting something into a dark, scorched man that was slowly making his skin less burnt and more normal.

"Yeah, much more evolved. Why don't humans have this stuff?" I asked, trying not to sound too accusing.

She laughed, an annoying, light little noise. "Because they're _humans_, of course. Why would we share our magical advances with a race that would do little more than imprison us?"

Ok, so this place was definitely anti-human. I'd have to watch where I stepped, or I could cause some serious rifts, and then Puck might end up with more than a broken arm.

Eventually, we stopped at a door labeled 241, and the woman pushed a keycard against a scanner, opening it up. The room inside was small, cozy, and very _very _white. And on the matching white bed was Puck, already looking bored as he tapped with an IV in his arm.

He perked up as we entered. "Dogface! And nurse-lady! How nice to see you both. Now that we've all met, can you get me out of here?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yep, he seems fine."

The woman nodded and turned to me, ignoring Puck. "The surgery for putting the bones back in place only took half an hour. Then, we pumped him full of our cellular regenerative serum, which connected everything again, restored his bone and muscle structure. Now we're just tapping a bit of a numbing agent into him, and in an hour he'll be ready to go!"

"No cast or anything?"

"No, casts are a thing of the past. Why spend months with a cast when you can fit and reconnect a bone in mere minutes? We Everafters don't rely on such primitive medical pursuits."

This girl was really starting to irritate me. Puck seemed to notice, and smirked.

"Yes, we Everafters are much more evolved than you little humans. Why don't you go swim around in the cesspool, little mortal? Eat and mate, that's all you need to do, eat and mate."

I wanted to re-break his arm, the little turd.

"Shut up," I said instead, turning towards the woman. "So, can we go now then?"

"Oh, in just a few minutes. Why don't you wait here while I fill out the paperwork?"

"Ok."

She walked out, heels clicking, and I crossed my arms and turned to Puck.

"I hope your little surgery hurt."

He grinned. "Such kind words Grimm, such kind words. And it didn't, by the way. We Everafters are above pain."

"If one more person uses the term 'we Everafters'…" I muttered.

"We Everafters can use whatever terms we Everafters want."

"Let's see how well _you Everafters _put up against my fists," I snapped.

He laughed, massaging his arm, looking strangely vulnerable against the thin white sheets and crisp pillows.

"I'm ready to leave this place. It smells too clean," he commented idly.

I nodded. "And the people here are too extreme for me. I wouldn't even be surprised if they came in and ordered my execution for being a human and contaminating their fancy Everafter hospital with my gross mortal germs."

I guess I had spoken too soon, because at that moment the small nurse was back, smiling hugely, but it wasn't a pleased smile, it was actually slightly vindictive.

"We're sorry, but we have just been informed that any humans that know about Everafters are not welcome here. And our scanners didn't pick you up as an Everafter, young miss."

"What? Ok, we'll lea-"

"We have also been informed that there is only one human family that knows about Everafters. The Grimms."

"I think we'll be g-"

"We have also been informed that there is a bounty of 40,000 units out for anyone who can deliver a certain Sabrina Grimm to a certain source. A certain very _persuasive _source."

She opened the door wider and two huge men stepped in, carrying guns bigger than my entire upper body. I gulped, instinctively stepping closer to Puck's bed.

I heard him stir, sheets crinkling, as he sat up, heard the rip of tape as he pulled out his IV.

"Oh yeah, well I've been informed by my brain that if you don't let us go I will fry your ass and send it to your mother as an early Christmas present!" he seethed.

The woman's smile only got bigger. "Oh don't worry, Mr. _Deadnight_, we were informed much earlier of who _you _were. And you happen have a bounty just as big as hers on your pretty little head."

I felt his hand press reassuringly against my back as my spine hit the edge of his metal bed.

"Oh, and you think you can just take me down then?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure we could take _her _down fairly quickly," the woman responded with a glance at me.

The hand on my back stiffened, and I felt my muscles clench painfully. This wasn't going to be good.

The woman knew it too, because her grin managed to stretch even wider, eyes gleaming as the hulking men at her sides held out their guns.

"Now, are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

* * *

**Oo! Cliffy (sorta).**

**I don't like this chapter much but you know whatever. I'm sort of bumbling around grasping for any plot to continue with. I've got a bad feeling that if I don't get some inspiration soon I might have problems keeping the story up…**

**BUT I had a brilliant suggestion (from the guest nana) that maybe my cameo chapter shouldn't be a cameo as much as it should be a separate chapter all on its own of a sort of tiny mini adventure that doesn't change the flow of anything in the story but is just there for fun.**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLLLLEEEASSSSEEE tell me whether we should do that or the cameo! If no one does, I'm just sticking with the cameo next chapter. If you guys say we should do the separate chapter thing, then we will, but it might actually be a later chapter. And I might still keep a tiny cameo and do the whole 'separate chapter thing' on chapter 20 or something.**

**I don't know. Life is confusing.**

**THANKS SO MUCH DUDES!**

**-anniepear**


	10. Holographic Chit-Chats

**Hello everybody. I have returned.**

**Let me start off by saying WHOA MY TENTH CHAPTER WHOA.**

**I really can't believe I've already on chapter number ten. Craziness.**

**Also, this is the chapter with the cameo… and the cameo I decided to write… is...**

***drumroll***

**BELLA's! Thank you Bella for your awesome cameo idea and the rest of the cameos that I didn't use… Watch out, because I might sneak them in later in the story!**

**And one more thing. Sorry if I don't update as fast as you guys would like! I update (try to update) at least once a week. If I don't update once a week, it's either because I'm having trouble getting ideas for the next chapter or am really busy.**

**Ok, well, hope you enjoy this chapter. **

**Also, HAPPY AUTUMN TO EVERYONE WHO JUST HAD IT TURN FALL WHERE THEY LIVED!**

* * *

**Ch.10: Holographic Chit-Chats**

And that is how I ended up in prison_. _Yes, you heard me correctly. _Prison_.

Miss evil nurse escorted us down to a room under the hospital, which was very dark and very dank and very cell-like. Which I guess was expected, because oh, did I mention, it was a _prison_.

The room was also pretty small, which meant Puck was sitting in one corner, having the nerve to look bored, while I paced the small distance from one wall to the other, trying to calm myself down.

"Puck, when they come in here, there will be no escape. Like, no escape. Mirror and his Scarlet Hand people will come and they'll take us or maybe even kill us and then they'll move on to the rest of my family and I can't let that happen Puck I just can't we-"

"Sadie, calm down. I have everything under control."

"Oh, do you now?" I snapped, voice edging on hysterical-laugh. "Because you are probably still hurting from your surgery, I am practically helpless, and we'll probably both be dead in minutes."

Puck rolled his eyes, producing a bouncy ball out of nowhere and beginning to toss it back and forth, watching it hit the floor, the wall, the floor, and bounce back to him before he started the cycle again. "Could you be any more melodramatic? This is not a soap opera chick. Although I could probably talk to Annie and convince her to make it into one. She is sorta in charge of this story after all…"

Now was not the moment for his insanity. "Puck, this is not time for you insanity!" Yep, that was pretty much déjà vu. "We could possibly _die _and you're just here playing with a stupid ball!"

"It's not stupid, first of all. Second of all, possibly dying is pretty much part of my schedule. Get over it."

"If we get out of this alive so help me I will…" I muttered, letting my imagination finish that sentence. Puck snorted at my irritation.

I paced for a bit longer, not able to concentrate on anything but the ball. Bounce, wall, bounce, hand, bounce, wall, bounce, hand.

Bounce.

Wall.

Bounce.

Hand.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE!" I shouted, lunging forward to intercept the path of the offending little circle. He snatched it out of the air before I could, grinning widely.

"Aw, look how frazzled you are. It would be adorable if it weren't so, well, ugly."

My hands itched to grab his neck and wring it. Before I could, the cell door opened, and a tall, thin man with a gun very obviously placed on his halter entered the room. He looked at the two of us, tensing up when he saw Puck. He didn't when he saw me, which only proved to serve my steadily growing annoyance and fear.

"Um, I'm going to need to ask you to come with me," he said, nudging a head towards me, staying a safe distance from Puck, who was still bouncing the ball, although he had somehow managed to make it look threatening.

I glanced over at Puck, whose eyes had narrowed as he studied the lanky man. Eventually, he just gave a curt nod. I felt my stomach twist with nerves, but tried not to get too nervous. Puck would make sure nothing happened to me… Right?

"Fine. But just so you know, if something happens to her…" He trailed off, shrugging lightly, although there was nothing light about the gesture. "I think you get where this is going."

The man nodded, swallowing thickly, and then looked at me pointedly. I gave Puck one last look, but his eyes were thin, passive, so I turned away and followed the man out, despite the feelings in my stomach telling me not too.

As soon as the door closed, the man's demeanor changed. The tension in his shoulders sagged a bit, and the anxious veil covering his face was pulled away to show a firm confidence. "Follow me," he said flatly.

At first I didn't move. "You guys really are scared of him, aren't you?" I asked instead.

He answered by pulling out his gun and holding it out at me. "I said, follow me."

"Ok, ok," I said, following the man down the hallway. I knew we were pretty far underground- the elevator the nurse and her two guards had taken me down had read Floor -5. I guess that's why everything felt sort of moist, the air thick and musty. It didn't help that there were no windows, only the bare minimum of lights necessary for sight, and everything seemed to be steel- the walls, the floor,the ceiling.

I traced the path we took in my head- left, right, straight past three doors, left again- until it all jumbled up with the anxiety clenching together in my head. Eventually though, we stopped passing up doors and went into one. This room was about as big as our cell, but actually had furniture. Or rather, one piece of furniture. A small, steel (surprise, surprise) table with a round contraption sitting on it.

The man nudged me further into the room with the tip of his gun, and I stumbled forward, not wanting to get shot but feeling a bit more nervous than before because this looked an awful lot like an interrogation room. And interrogations sometimes meant pain. Or, like Puck had tried to demonstrate before, death.

I swallowed, but continued forward, until I was standing on the other side of the table.

"He'll be with you shortly," the man said, and then closed the door. It locked shut with a click of finality. Tangible silence filled the air, and having nothing else better to do, I reached forward to touch the contraption. It was about the size of my palm, a small metal circle, and in the middle was a small, clear ball. I was about to pick it up when suddenly it beeped, and just as I was instinctively backing away, the ball lit up with a pale blue light. The light flickered before solidifying, projecting a shape in front of me. Seconds later and the light was changing color, not just blue, but brown and black and gray, and suddenly the projection wasn't just a shape, it was a human.

The man, or image of a man rather, was short, wearing a neat tuxedo, and on first glance, not entirely imposing. He had pale skin and thin brown hair that was balding near the top. He stood squarely, a polite smile and his face, and for the most part seemed ordinary. It was his eyes that really set my little alarms blaring though. Even though they were holograms, they looked entirely real. Dark pits of brown, almost black, that studied me, pierced through me as he began to walk around me. A cobra, a lion, assessing me, my weakness, my emotions. Determining how to strike.

I wondered distantly if the hologram could hear my heartbeat as I felt it become a sharp staccato.

After what felt like hours, hours I knew were only seconds, the smile spoke.

"I am truly sorry for having to meet you in this fashion." His voice was crisp and smooth, a silky softness that might have been pleasant if not for the way it sent goosebumps crawling up my arm.

"No you're not," I said immediately, regretting my words as soon as they left my lips.

The man's smile only grew a bit. "Oh, you are as fiery as they say. They being your parents of course."

He knew exactly what words to choose, and although I told myself they wouldn't affect me, they did. One mention of my parents and I could feel my entire body tightening like a coil, not sure what to say, what to do.

He laughed, and I twisted my face into a cold frown. "Oh, don't look so upset. It's not like you didn't know this information already."

I crossed my arms. "What do you want?"

"So to the point. That's an admirable quality, you know. I've always been known to do a bit too much talking, stretch the monologue out a bit too much. What can I say? I have a dramatic flair. But to be fair to myself, I _was _created that way. Not much I can do to change what Ms. Lancaster did to me."

I sharpened my gaze, but he didn't seem affected. "And look, I'm at it again. Oh well, I've always excelled at the power of speech. Maybe I can even use it to persuade you."

"Persuade me of what?"

The man, the projection, stopped circling me, standing on the other side of the desk, his hands brushing the surface of the desk, resting on top of it even though I knew they could just pass through.

"Persuade you to join us."

I snorted, something I found myself doing a lot more since I had joined Puck. The man didn't respond, just kept looking at me with that icy gaze.

"Join you? When you haven't even said who you are?"

He grinned a bit. "Oh, we both know who I am. I suppose you want to be sure of it though, especially since I appear as a mere form of light to you. I am Mirror, professionally known as the Master, if you may. And you are Sabrina Grimm, daughter of Veronica and Henry Grimm, older sister to Daphne and Basil Grimm, niece of Jake Grimm, granddaughter to Basil Senior and Relda Grimm… Need I go on? I feel as if introductions have been thoroughly covered."

"You've done your research," I said once I got my voice back.

He shrugged. "I like to be prepared. Study up before the test. Why face an unknown adversary when I could face the same person but know them inside and out? I know you more than you know yourself."

I ignored the last part, instead focusing on anything to keep the conversation going, to keep up my façade of calm. "So that's what I am? Your adversary?"

He smiled. "More like an obstacle. Or, if you wanted, an ally."

"Allies? With _you_?"

He sighed, almost as if he was disappointed. "Oh don't be so naive. Have you ever heard the phrase 'history repeats itself?' For someone who has been around for thousands of years, I have to say that this is less of a theory and more of a fact. Revolutions begin, independence is fought for, natural disasters are overcome, racial differences lead to wars- it has happened over and over again, and it will continue happening until the end of time. A horrible way to live, I would say, if not for the one underlying theme of evolution. The simple truth of life that the higher being will adapt and conquer in the end over its lower companions.

"Tell me, Miss Grimm, have you ever heard of the Neanderthals? The San, the Flores Man? All early species of hominids, and you know what happened to them? They died. Slowly, over the course of years, they succumbed to the rise of greater, more advanced beings all around them. All extinct now, thanks to the wondrous race of homo sapiens."

The words were dripping with controlled loathing.

"But do you know what? The world keeps on moving. Time keeps on spinning. And one by one, new creatures are introduced to this corrupt world. For the most part, they fall under the tyrannical monstrosity of your kind. But sometimes, a race arises to challenge you, to question you, unravel your pathetic excuses of humanity."

He brandished his hands out, smile widening, eyes glittering. "We are that race. Everafters are the savior the entire world has been waiting for. And just as history repeats itself, we will rise up and cleanse the world of lesser beings such as yourself. There is no escaping it- all that remains is the role of Fate, the turn of destiny that has finally decided that the end of your wretched existence as a species will come to pass sooner rather than later. So it is the prayer of a foolish child to hope that nothing other than this future will come to light. I, however, am offering you another way. Offering you safety from the doom of the rest of your race, offering you a spot where you could remain as we reform the world. I am not a murderer, I am not a monster, I am a leader, a leader of a people who have decided the time for living in the exaggerated shadow of human greatness is over. I only wish to rid the world of the very beings destroying it- I only wish to improve what is already here. Please, if you join us, if you give us the information we need, we may even spare your family."

I had been prepared to shoot back a stinging retort, something along the lines of 'I would rather die before helping you,' but one mention of my family sent the words flipping over each other in my mouth, dying down as quickly as they had risen up. My family… he would spare my family. If what he said was right, if human extinction was inevitable, if these Everafters, these higher beings, would really kill us off, what use would resisting be? Wouldn't it be better to save my family, to save who I could, rather than let all of humanity die?

But I couldn't, I knew I couldn't. Because I could only imagine my family's reaction if they knew what I had chosen. If I opted to stand by and let the world be destroyed just to save them. They would hate me, and even worse than that, they would hate themselves.

Part of me argued that it was worth it, that it was alright as long as I kept them alive, because that was the point of all this, wasn't it? But another part of me whispered truth. Whispered that it had become much bigger than that. That it was no longer a petty kidnapping, but a plot at world domination, at destroying my entire species. And as much as I would love to protect my family with immunity from the destruction, I knew it wasn't the right choice- wasn't the hero's choice.

It might've been regret, or dread, weighing down my tongue as I spoke the words. "No. I can't. We both know I can't and I never will. Because you know what else repeats itself in history? The strength, the courage, of humanity. We have faced all the world has thrown at us and stood right back up. This will be no different."

His lips curved upwards, eyes gleaming, and I had the distinct feelings that he had wanted me to say that all along. "Suit yourself. We'll see how fast it takes to break you. If you're anything like your parents, it won't be easy. But if they have proven one thing to us, it is that any soul can be crushed if you apply enough pressure."

His words sent my heart pounding, sent my mind spiraling into visions of torture and pain and screaming and the whole time he just stood there smiling. "Oh well, _you _signed their death warrants after all. This can only be considered y-"

He never got to finish the sentence, because suddenly a mini explosion shook the ground, and the cell door was knocked clean off its hinges in a sudden burst of light, sound, and smoke. Mirror turned around, face twisting in fury, but a moment later and a knife was sticking out of the communicator. The image of Mirror turned to me one last time, whispers of a smile still on his face, promises of pain and death and even more pain, before the light flickered off and the holograph disappeared. I stood at the device for a moment, before I coughed on the smoke in the room and looked up. Puck was standing in the doorway, surrounded by a cloud of thick gray, dressed in the dark uniform the prison guards had been wearing, a tell-tale smear of blood wiped across his cheek.

"Sorry that took so long. It's surprisingly hard to stop watching people you just tazed. Hey, is it just me or was that Mirror you were talking too?"

I was too wound up to feel anything even relating relief. "Yeah. It was."

Puck studied me for a moment longer, before simply saying, "He's an asshole. Like the biggest hole of the biggest ass that ever existed."

I nodded, blinking away the images still swimming in my mind, blaming the sudden burning in my eyes on the smoke. Puck was still staring at me weirdly.

"So, we going?" he asked a moment later.

"Yeah."

"Good, because I'm pretty sure the alarms for this place's Red Alert will probably be going off any sec-"

A loud whirring filled the room, high pitched and obnoxious enough to alert anyone in a five mile radius that something was up. That something being us.

"Come on!" Puck shouted over the sound, taking my hand and pulling me out of the room. I managed to grab the communicator off of the desk, shoving it into my pocket at the last moment. Who knew? It might be useful.

The hallway seemed longer than before, what with the racing siren screaming at us of danger, danger, dagner. That people with guns, people who wouldn't hesitate in killing us, could be popping out of anywhere any second now. We had passed three doors before they did.

The first was a man. He stepped out of the door a few feet in front us, and in seeing us, his eyes widened and he raised his gun. It was too late though- a knife was already imbedded in his forehead. Before he crumpled, Puck yanked it out, still running, and I tried to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach as I followed.

The hallway veered to the left, and I remembered enough of the layout to know that at the end of this hall was the elevator. Only Puck slowed right before we could turn the corner, pausing to stick his head out a fraction. He pulled it back, grinning.

"There are about seven dudes out there," he whispered, as if it was necessary with the screeching alarm setting my mind on edge.

"How are we gonna get past?" I asked.

His smirk was answer enough. "Watch and learn girly."

And with that, he darted into the open. Everyone turned to him and he sighed dramatically. "I don't know how to say this ladies, but I'm pregnant."

I was too annoyed to even facepalm as the shots started a moment later. I could only watch, fingers digging into each other, as he rolled forward, springing up from the floor a second later only to jump to the side, using the wall as a springboard to push off of, aiming towards the hanging lamp on the ceiling. He grabbed onto it easily, swinging back once before using it to flip himself forward, spinning through the air. He landed on top of the first man's head. He dropped down so that his legs were around the man's neck, and with a sharp twist, a snapping sound filled the air. As that man's body dropped, he leaped off, hopping to the next. This man was smarter though, and took a step back, gun in front of him. Puck simply landed on the floor in front of the man, on his hands, and then propelled himself forwards, wrapping his thighs around the man's waist. From there, he snatched two knives from his pouch and in one fluid motion, plunged them into the man's chest. He ripped them back out, flinging one behind him at the man there and another to the left at the man there. The two collapsed simultaneously.

Puck flipped easily off of the body, but instead of letting it fall, he held it in front of him, a body shield against the shots being fired from the three remaining men. He walked closer to the cluster of the three remaining guards, suddenly throwing the man's dead body forward. It hit the first man, making him stumble back as the full weight of the corpse fell on him. Puck kartwheeled to the right, dropping to the ground and delivering two sharp punches to man in front of him's kneecaps. The man's body buckled automatically, and Puck used the opportunity to kick him in the groin, and then deliver a sharp jab to his chin. The man's neck snapped backwards and he fell to the ground. Puck snatched his gun before he fell, dropping to a split suddenly as a shot from the other man sailed over his head. He aimed his own gun and two shots later, the man was dead too, identical bullet holes marring his forehead. That was when the last man finally shoved the dead body off of himself. There was a last flash of terror in his eyes before Puck shot, and then the man fell to the ground to join the corpse that had been previously attacking him.

And it had all happened in about ten seconds. Never had I been more happy that Puck was seemingly on my side.

At the same time, scampering over the dead bodies to join Puck made nausea squirm within me. I hadn't even touched a single one of them and I felt like their blood was lodged in my fingernails, covering my arms, too deep in the crevices of my body to wash out.

"That was exciting," Puck said flippantly as I joined him, not even breathing heavily. I didn't respond, not trusting my voice. Instead, I clicked the elevator button, waiting until the welcoming ding joined the orchestra of wailing and the doors slid open. I ran in, Puck following, and we chose floor 1 just as I saw a group of guards turn the corner. A single shot made it through the doors before they closed, piercing the wall above Puck's head.

He grinned. "Man, now I remember why I loved Detroit so much."

I focused on steadying my breathing. The doors to the elevator dinged back open, and then we were in the Everafter hospital. The alarms weren't blaring here, only in the prison, either because these people didn't yet know or no one wanted to scare the patients. Either way, it was a welcome change, and the blessed quiet of soft voices and rustling papers calmed my nerves.

"It won't be long before these people realize- we have to get out," Puck said lightly as he grabbed my forearm and led me out of the elevator. "Don't make eye contact with anyone," he added as an afterthought. We walked quickly down the hall, and each nurse I passed, each smiling doctor, sent a twinge of anxiety up my stomach. Breathe in, breathe out. Almost there.

And then we opened the door, and we were out of the Everafter hospital and back in the normal hospital. More fast walking, more fast walking, and then we were out of the hospital wing and in the waiting room. There were less people than moments before, but the lady at the front desk was the same. The lady at the front desk was Miss Evil Nurse.

"Shit," I muttered.

The woman's head turned automatically towards us as the door opened, but it was too late, our backs were facing her now. I could feel her eyes burning a hole in my spine, but maybe we were safe, because we were at the doors, and Puck was opening them, and-

"Escapees! Introducers! Someone, get them!"

The woman's voice filled the air and my mind, echoing in both, and suddenly our quick walking became full out sprinting. Adrenaline and panic made my legs move faster, and pretty soon I was beside Puck as we raced to the motorcycle, the sounds of pursuing footsteps lost in the beating of our own hearts. I heard shouts, heard the doors open, heard what I was pretty sure were gunshots. But we were at the motorcycle, and Puck quite promptly picked me up by the waist and swung me on, throwing himself on easily and then reaching back to dig in my pockets.

For a moment I thought he had gone insane, before his hand emerged triumphant with the motorcycle keys. Two breaths later and the motorcycle was started, jolting forwards suddenly, so fast that I almost fell off, wrapping my arms tight against Puck, watching as people from the hospital swarmed out of the doors. Shots peppered behind us as Puck accelerated out of the parking lot, two louder explosions suggesting that they had more than just small guns this time. Only they all landed behind us, and then we were peeling out into the street, tires screeching as they slid across the road. We shot forward, ignoring the loud car horns and the shots and shouts that quickly faded into the distance. I looked behind us- no one was following. I looked to the sides- no one was following.

Then, only then, did I allow myself to relax, to let my body sag against Puck's.

"Holy dear Jesus Christ," I whispered into his clothes, the prison guard uniform he was still wearing.

"Don't hurl on me, kay?" Puck said. I tried not to.

We drove for I don't know how long, only soon enough I was aware of the tightness in my stomach and the exhaustion in my limbs, and my mind only knew how to keep track of time based on how many times I had reviewed the talk with the Mirror-holograph back at the hospital.

Many, many times.

I was dimly aware of the motorcycle slowing down, and then stopping, and I felt Puck's body move as he took out the key.

"Well, I think we lost them," he said helpfully as I detached myself and he hopped off, the picture of nonchalance, as ever.

"I certainly hope so," I responded a bit shakily, climbing off after him, as in my mind the dead bodies we had left in the hall all took on my parents' faces.

"See, this is why I don't like hospitals," Puck said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, because this happens a lot to you?"

"You have no idea. At least I got my arm fixed though!"

I rolled my eyes, looking around, and even though I knew it had been at least a half hour, I was still trying to calm my breathing and my pulse, the anxiety still making me a bit stiff. For the first time, I really studied my surroundings.

We were in a small road, which was lined with little shops and restaurants and hotels. People were walking around, chatting, and the sun was shining, and snow coated the ground, and it looked like something out of a drawing of a city neighborhood, so it was normal enough to appeal to my racing mind, which was beginning to slow down.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Oh, still Detroit. I just had to drive a lot of twisty-turny's to get those buttcheeks off my tail. No, this is the best part of Detroit. Sabrina, may I present to you, the Reindeer's Antlers."

I sort of wanted to slap him. "We were just _running for our lives from freakos shooting rocket launchers or something at us_, and you want to go to a stupid restaurant of all places?"

He paused before nodding. "That _is_ why we're here. I didn't just drive all this way to let you stare at the scenery."

"Puck, they'll find us! We should be going as far away as possible! Finding more information on Mirror! On my parents! We need to, to-"

"Youneed to calm down. We're fine, trust me. Those guys will have no idea we're here- this place is really off the charts, no one knows about it. Which makes it that much better! So come on, get your lazy butt off my motorcycle."

I wanted to keep driving, to leave this country if it meant those people wouldn't find us, if it meant I wouldn't have to talk to Mirror again. It was all I could think about- Mirror, Mirror, Mirror. But for now, there was something else I could focus on- my hunger. Maybe it would be nice to sit down and eat, to relax a bit.

I sighed loudly. "Fine. But just so you know, that was the most insane thing I've ever done."

"Most insane? We jumped off an elevator, and _that _was the most insane thing?"

For some reason that made me laugh, because it _was_ insane, this whole thing was insane, the fact that I was allies with a wild mercenary and actually maybe sort of considered him not that bad was insane. My _life _had become insane. But for the first time, as I kept laughing, I thought that maybe insane wasn't bad.

A niggling whisper reminded me of my conversation with Mirror, of my parents, of the always present fear, of the bounty on my head.

But the niggling whisper was (for once) ignored.

Puck gasped suddenly, looking at his motorcycle. "How the flipping flies did that get there?" he said angrily, pointing to a miniscule speck of something black on his motorcycle.

"I don't know… it's just some dirt," I answered as he leaned in to inspect the dot.

"No. No. This is not acceptable. I'll be right back Grimm, I'm going to dig for some napkins in the dumpster behind this place."

"Puck, please don't-"

But he was already gone. I sighed loudly and rubbed my face. When I put my hands back down by my side, I noticed the girl staring at me, a knowing smile on her face.

My first thought was something along the lines of, 'Holy shit this girl knows we're from the hospital and is gonna take us back to Mirror.'

I tensed up as she walked closer to me. Then, her knowing smile split into a large, wide one. "Hello! My name is Bella, and I couldn't help but notice the obvious trouble between you and your boyfriend."

Obvious trouble _what_?

Wait, more importantly, _boyfriend_?

"I don't think I know what you're-"

"It's ok, I deal with stuff like this all the time, there's no reason to be ashamed."

She pulled a paper out of the large pile she was carrying. Her own face was plastered on it, along with the words "Couple Counseling for the Soul" and a long string of information.

Couple counseling?

"Hold up a second, I think you have the wrong-"

"Does your boyfriend treat you rudely? Does he care more about his _motorcycle _than you? Don't worry, more than 35 percent of Michigan's female residents agreed that sometimes, their boyfriends treat them terribly. I'm here to tell you that you don't have to accept it. That you can both change to strengthen your relationship for the better!"

Her smile was huge and sympathetic and now that I looked around, I noticed that the flyer I was holding was hanging up on a few walls, and that I saw a girl a bit down the street looking at one intently.

Dear God.

"Really, I don't think I need this. You see-"

"Honey, denial is the first problem in a relationship. When you admit something is wrong, that's when you can finally start to fix it."

She patted my shoulder kindly, and I saw I was getting nowhere with her. So I just took a deep breath. "Oh, thank you so much. Me and my," the word tasted weird on my tongue, "_boyfriend _could really use this."

She nodded. "Trust me, I can spot the trouble couples from a mile away. Whenever you're ready, just call that number," she said, gesturing to the number on the flyer. 1-800-234-LOVE.

Fantastic.

Puck walked up then, not even noticing me talking to the girl, too busy scrubbing at his motorcycle. Bella looked at me sadly. "I'll be waiting."

And then she walked away, leaving me with a couple's counseling flyer and most likely a priceless expression.

When Puck had successfully fixed up the mysterious black dot, he clapped his hands together and turned to look at me.

"What's that?" he asked of the thing in my hand.

"Couple's counseling. Because apparently we're a trouble couple," I said, and although I meant it as a joke, it felt strange to say it.

He laughed, wrapping one arm around me. "Oh please. I think we're a perfect couple." He placed a smooch on my cheek, obviously meaning nothing by it, and then skipped into the restaurant. I had to blink a few times and touch my cheek once and then laugh awkwardly before following him in, telling myself if he thought nothing of the teasing kiss, then neither should I.

Right?

No one mentioned it, or Bella, or the flyer stuffed in my pocket, for the rest of the night. We sat down at a booth, and Puck made different origami shapes out of our napkins, and he showed me how if he took a gulp of Shirley Temple, he could shoot it out of his nose, and we both ordered kid menus only to draw on them, and we played tic-tac-toe until our food arrived, and Puck ate two burgers and a plate of cheesy fries, and I had root beer and an order of chicken fingers, and he drew different shapes on his plate with the ketchup, and we mixed the ketchup with mayonnaise, mustard, barbecue sauce, and steak sauce to see what it tasted like, and we both ordered tall chocolate shakes, and the food was good and filled me with warmth, and for some reason I forgot who he was and he just became a normal boy, a normal, stupid, funny boy that kept throwing balls of paper at the people sitting next to us and whistling casually when they turned to glare at him.

And part of me knew the truth, that this was a dangerous game, that considering him a friend, _maybe _a friend, was a very risky move. Because Puck didn't have friends, he just didn't. The closest he had to a friend was Moth, and their relationship consisted of unrequited love and snarky comments. And he had a notorious reputation for killing anyone and everyone around him, for ending people's lives before they could really get close to him. But as I beat him for the fifth time at hangman, I thought maybe he just needed a chance. Maybe he just needed someone to reach out to him, to show him kindness. Maybe I could be that person.

But like I said before, it was a dangerous game. And yet as he stole the cherry from my sundae and stuck the two stems in his mouth like the teeth of a walrus, I decided that that wasn't going to stop me from playing it.

* * *

**Well that was a long chapter. AND it sat on my computer like a loser for a week because I **_**just couldn't write it**_**.**

**UGH. I think I am getting major writer's block and it's scaring me because I HATE WRITER'S BLOCK.**

**That's why I don't have a preview for Chapter 11 in this chapter. I'll add it later, once I finalize what chapter 11 is even about, because right now, I really don't know.**

**Oh well. I'll get past it. As usual, love you all! And Bella, hope you liked your cameo!**

**-anniepear**


	11. Window Jumping

**AAAAH IM SO SORRY!**

**My last like eight reviews are all about how I need to update faster. I really am sorry guys! It's just I'm in a theater group and our play's this week so I've been cramming for that, I have three huge projects going on in school (not to mention loads of homework), and literally the only free time I have is on Sunday and that day is also still full of schoolwork. **

**BUT, the play will be over next Sunday, and I will have tons of extra time (it takes up a load of my time). So hopefully I will update sooner.**

**Also, I am getting major writer's block with this story and am actually trying to start another.**

***ooh ahh***

**Yeah I know, such an overachiever.**

**With that said, here's chapter 11!**

* * *

**Ch.11: Window Jumping**

With the luck I had, it only made sense that after what could actually be viewed as a good day (minus almost being killed and talking with the biggest hole of the biggest ass- Puck's words) would also be the worst night yet.

If you could get any worse than me almost killing him, that is.

Walking from the restaurant, I was stuffed, heavy with food but somehow light at the same time, a warm softness that seemed to spread across my chest. Puck kept going on and on about he'd pretty much ingested an entire cow, and I kept telling him to please stop saying that, or I might throw up all of the food that was somehow still in my stomach.

Of course, he had just smirked and said that was his goal. I didn't even have the energy to glare at him.

We drove to the nearest hotel (him driving, not me, because as fun as it was to rock some feminism and show him who was boss, I didn't particularly feel like driving with my already sloshing stomach), pulling to a stop in the parking lot.

"Shouldn't we, I don't know, do something?" I asked as we stepped off.

Puck raised an eyebrow. "We are doing something. I think I just ingested a whole cow."

I just rolled my eyes instead of threatening to kill him if he said that one more time. "I mean something along the lines of, I don't know, rescuing my parents?"

Puck snorted. "Oh please. In this state? The best I could do would be to barf all over Mirror. And trust me, it doesn't taste as good going in as it does coming out."

Ok, ew. But the warm feeling was starting to wear off, and with that came the panic. The thought of 'did I really just waste an entire day at a hospital and then at some stupid restaurant?' I was supposed to be working hard to get my parents back. Meaning no rests and no time wasting. And what had this entire day been exactly?

"But Puck-"

"No. No buts. I'm in charge." Then his mouth spread into a grin and he giggled. "I said butts."

I groaned, rubbing my forehead with my hands. "See? This is why I'm not so sure how I feel about your _position of power_."

"Well cry yourself a river, build a bridge, and get over it." Pause. "I've always wanted to say that."

"Jesus Christ," I muttered, stepping past him towards the hotel lobby. He skipped after me.

"Excuse me, do you have a room we could stay in for a night?" I asked politely once we were inside.

The woman at the desk looked up at me, face painted in a bright smile. "Of course! Now, would you like two queen beds, or a king bed for the happy couple?"

She winked at us. I gagged as my face no doubt turned bright red, but Puck just wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

"A king bed, please. The happy couple is thinking about getting a little happier. If you know w-"

I elbowed him hard in the ribs, shoving his arm off of me. "Two queens. Thank you," I said. The woman was smart enough to not argue.

"That hurt!" Puck whined.

"Cry yourself a river, build a bridge, and get over it," I returned in a voice that was supposed to sound like his.

He crossed his arms in a pout.

Ten minutes later, and we had successfully bought room 245 for the night. It was small, but cozy, and had two queen beds (thank you desk woman).

"Hey! I'm pretty sure there's a Harry Potter marathon on ABC! If you turn it on we might have time to watch that vampire dude die!" Puck announced as soon as we had put our stuff down.

It took a while for 'vampire dude' to set in. "Oh. You know, just because he plays a vampire in another movie does not-"

"Vampire dude."

I sighed, but he plopped down on the couch and looked at me like a little puppy begging for food, so I turned on the TV, flipped it to ABC, and sure enough, _The Goblet of Fire _was playing.

And how the heck was I supposed to say no to watching Harry Potter?

So instead of showering, we just sat together on the couch, hips inches apart, rubbing our stomachs as we watched the rest of the movie. Of course, I cried when Cedric died.

"You're such a pathetic little weakling," Puck commented idly.

I punched him in the side.

"Wow. That actually _proved _your pathetic weakling-ness."

I punched him harder. He decided to stop insulting me. And then _Goblet of Fire _became _Order of the Phoenix_, and it wasn't like I could just decide to not watch it. It was physically impossible.

So we plowed on through that one too, and by the end of the movie it was pitch black outside, the clock read 11:02, and my eyelids were having trouble staying up.

Luckily for my body (unluckily for my mind, which wanted to keep watching until oblivion), the marathon ended there, saying that the last two (or technically three) movies would play tomorrow. Which was a Sunday… I thought. It was hard to keep time when you were running around with a killer.

For a few moments, Puck and I just sat there, too tired to move, eyes fixed on the screen as the credits dragged by.

"I should take a shower," I said eventually.

"You should. You smell like my grandma's diarrhea."

I was too smart to ask about that. "Yeah, but I'm_ so tired_."

"Deal with it Grimmsie-poo. No way am I going anywhere with someone who reeks that badly."

"Oh yeah, have you smelled yourself lately? And when was the last time _you _showered?"

"My natural odor is of roses and vanilla, so don't you dare even _attempt _to insult me. And besides, I showered this morning buttcheek."

I rolled my eyes, grabbing my pajamas out of my bag and shuffling over to the bathroom. I had never been closer to actually falling asleep standing up. The water washed over me, warm and smooth, like a gentle caress, and for once in my life I was actually content. Full, warm, happy, and just having watched Harry Potter.

Weird I could ever feel something like content with my parents gone… with a lunatic as my source of getting them back. But my mind was slowly deleting the word lunatic, maniac, psychopath from relating to Puck. Which for once I didn't think was totally bad. Because after the restaurant, I had decided to take a chance on him. To step out of my comfort zone and actually be his _friend_… to try and change him for the better.

If it was possible.

My pajamas consisted of athletic shorts and a baggy shirt that had 'New York' printed on it in big black letters. When I walked out, Puck was still on the couch. Only he wasn't sitting, he was laying. And his eyes were closed. And his breath was tickling the golden curl falling over his face. And he was wearing his pajamas, the long-sleeved white T-shirt and plaid sweatpants from the night before. And he was sprawled out on the couch, one arm hanging off the edge, face pushed against his other hand, legs tangled together.

And for some reason it made this stupid smile spread across my face and something soft warm my heart. I couldn't exactly just leave him like that, because the position he was in actually looked extremely painful, so I walked over to him, nudging him lightly.

"Puck?"

He didn't answer. Didn't even react.

"Puck? Come on, you need to go to bed."

"Shuddup," he murmured into his hand, voice deep and slow with sleep.

"Puck, when you wake up you're going to be super uncomfortable from sleeping like this. Come on," I insisted.

He grumbled something, and without opening his eyes, stretched out his hands to me. "Carry me."

I rolled my eyes, but the softness in my chest kept spreading, so I reached down, wrapping an arm under his, heaving him off of the couch. I wasn't carrying him as much as I was dragging him. He leaned against me, cheek nuzzled in the crook of my neck, and his skin seemed to burn mine as we stumbled to his bed. I lowered his upper body onto the bed as carefully as possible. The rest of him seemed to get the memo, and he groggily adjusted himself up onto the mattress. I pulled the covers out from underneath him slowly before draping them over him, and he instantly snuggled up into the pillow.

And I was still smiling like an idiot. When I realized it, I walked quickly over to my bed, something flushing in my face. I pulled down my covers, hopping into the bed, checking my phone for any texts from Granny Relda (none, as usual, which was a good thing because she said she'd text me if something went wrong, but a bad thing because I missed her horribly), and then put it up and closed my eyes, that little tingling feeling still tickling my chest.

Sleep washed over me just like the shower (and practically everything else in this weird day) had, warmly and happily and gently.

Waking up wasn't nearly as nice.

I heard a sound. And as much as most of me wanted to ignore the sound and stay in the soft hold of sleep, something in me knew this was more important, knew there was something about this sound that _needed _me to wake up.

So I did, eyes opening slowly, mind still fogged with dreams as I looked around, as I tried to determine what was making the noise.

I really should've known a one-night-nightmare wasn't going to happen. If there was something in Puck causing nightmares, and he didn't even _attempt _to talk about it, of course he was going to have more nightmares. But I hadn't thought of that. Which was why I was so unprepared when I saw the noise came from him.

"Not again," I whispered, a flood of cold waking me up in an instant. I pushed myself up in bed, squinting through the darkness to look at Puck. All I saw was his back, rigid and tight, and his fingers were digging into it from being wrapped around his chest, nails pushed hard against his shirt. He made another noise, a whimper. I was out of bed in seconds, and on the side of his in two more.

His face was tight, all of his muscles clenched, a crease in between his eyebrows, lips set in a deep frown. Just like the time before, his knees were curled up against his chest in a tiny, painful-looking ball. Only he was shaking, body twitching with small tremors that wouldn't stop. He was sprung taut like a coil, vibrating with the tension, with the pent up energy in his form, crunched together too small, too tight. It hurt to look at.

And that wasn't mentioning the whimpers. Little noises from the bottom of his throat that escaped every few seconds. Full of memory, of pain, of something that _hurt _that I had no idea of.

"Puck, come on, don't do this again," I said, scared to touch him, scared I would mess something up, would hurt him more somehow. My hand hovered uselessly over his body as his face distorted in ways that made my heart wring in on itself.

There were no words this time, just pain, just hints of an agony that seemed so deep, so full in those split second noises, in those horrible twists of expression.

"Please Puck, please wake up. You're alright. It's me, Sabrina, and we're fine, trust me."

His shaking increased to the point where it looked like powerful wracks of shivering, his frown somehow getting deeper, his eyebrows drawing further together. I did the only thing I could do- touched him. Just one hand, rested gently on his shoulder. And then, the energy was released. The tension, the pain, the emotion erupted out of him in the form of a loud, guttural, _hurt _scream.

The noise was feral, was as terrifying as it was heart-breaking, cracked and ragged as it tore up his throat with sheer force. I pulled my hand away, jumped backwards for a moment, but it didn't help, nothing helped. His hands left his back and instead found their way to his hair, scraping down his scalp, tearing lines of red on his face as he dragged them over his skin.

And the screams formed one word, over and over and over, shouted alongside the pure panic that echoed through the room. No, no no no no no no no.

I didn't realize I was crying until my vision slanted and blurred, didn't realize I was shouting things too until my throat began to sting. I reached my hands out again, grasping his forearm, his wrist, shaking him, begging him to stop.

His eyes shot open, but they weren't his. He shoved me away forcefully with his hands, and then he was off of the bed, retreating to the corner in a span of seconds, back against the wall, breathing so violently that he rose and fell with each too-fast gulp of air.

The screaming was replaced by dead silence, other than the sound of his hyperventilating. I didn't know which was better.

"Puck?" I asked tentatively. His eyes flashed to me, apparently noticing me for the first time. They were huge, dilated in panic, glowing green through the darkness, the eyes of a cornered animal that knows pain is coming, that knows death will be soon.

He didn't answer. If anything, the eyes got bigger, the breathing harder, and he pushed himself further against the wall, as if he could just disappear into it. His shirt was soaked with sweat, his curls matted to his head.

"Puck, it's alright, it's just you and me."

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded as soon as the words left my throat. His voice was shaking, weak, rough. It made something inside me burn.

"Sabrina. Grimm. We've been working together for three, four days now? I don't know, I-"

"STOP FUCKING LYING TO ME!" he shouted suddenly, chest rising and falling faster than seemed humanly possible, skin chalk white, lips shaking.

"I'm not!" I said, taking a careful step forwards, like one might approach a scared, injured beast. "We're working together to bring my parents back, from the Scarlet Hand, and-"

At the words Scarlet Hand his entire body froze, tensing, shrinking in on itself. "Scarlet Hand? No, no no not again not again no." His nails found his face again, digging into his cheeks, drawing blood.

"What not again?" I asked, something that might've been dread making my blood run cold.

"Don't act like you don't know!" he spat, words ferocious but eyes haunted, terrified, blown out of proportion. Voice harsh even as it shook with each word, even as his body shook with it. "You'll take me and you'll sit me down and, and, and…"

It seemed to be a struggle for his eyes to meet mine. "You're working with him! You've come back for me! I won't, I won't go! Not again! You can't make me!" He pulled mercilessly at his curls, body twisting in on itself, face something I didn't recognize.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I protested, heart pounding.

His hands pushed against his skull, as if there was too much in there, but then his head shot up. Something hardened in his gaze, and then there was a knife in his hand, from seemingly nowhere, and he flung it right at me. I don't know how I managed to dodge, but I did, and what would've killed me instead sailed inches past my right shoulder. The blood rushing in my head was all I could hear.

He suddenly lunged forward, jumping over the beds in two quick strides, landing beside me and kicking out with his foot, making me go flying backwards. My back hit something hard, Puck's body was a blur of motion, there was a shattering of glass, and he was gone. Right out the window. Gone.

I just sat there against the desk I had been flung into, focusing on nothing other than breathing, of taking it all in.

Puck had woken up from a nightmare not knowing who I was. Puck had woken up from a nightmare thinking I was going to hurt him. Puck had woken up from a nightmare and bust out the window to escape me, to escape whatever it was he thought I would do to him. Puck had woken up from a nightmare and now he was gone.

Gone.

My pulse sky-rocketed.

"Holy shit," I breathed, pushing myself up, not sure what to do, not sure if I _could _do anything. Shards of glass decorated the carpet, glinting dangerously in the moonlight, sharp as Puck's eyes had been. My back throbbed, and I touched it instinctively. There wasn't any blood, so that was good. Seemed to be the only good thing in this entire situation. Because Puck had jumped out of a window ninja-style after seemingly not remembering who I was and now he could be anywhere in Detroit and _how the hell was I supposed to find him_?

Oh Lord. That was a good point. How was I supposed to find a trained, lethal assassin in the middle of a city he obviously knew very well? How was I supposed to track down someone skilled in the art of disguise and hiding and eliminating targets without them even noticing him?

I took a deep breath to calm myself down. I would clean up the glass, and if he wasn't back by then, I'd go after him. Because some part of me still believed Puck would snap out of this on his own and come back and sheepishly apologize and all would be ok. So that's exactly what I did. I picked up each tiny sliver of glass, putting on slippers so that they wouldn't prick my feet. I put all of the glass in the trashcan, and then stood at the edge of the broken window, staring out into the city, which glowed in the dark.

I saw tall buildings looming in the background, illuminated against the night sky, cars glowing like tiny fireflies, zipping around the buildings. I saw a few people walking, laughing, and a few others begging for change. But I sure didn't see Puck running around in his pajamas. I let out a long, _long _sigh, and pulled off my slippers in exchange for a pair of tennis shoes. I pulled on a sweater over my T-shirt, deciding not to waste time putting on pants and instead deal with my legs freezing. I pulled a beanie over my head, shoved my phone in my pocket, grabbed our keycard, and headed out of the room.

It would be ok. I reassured myself of this during the elevator ride downstairs. The lobby was vacant besides a tired looking man at the front desk. He looked at me questioningly as I walked by. I just smiled at him and exited the building.

As soon as I stepped outside, a gust of wind blew against me, seeping through my clothes and making my legs break out in goosebumps. I pulled my sweater tighter around my body, already regretting not putting on sweatpants, but I squared my shoulders and walked into the night. What was I looking for? I wasn't exactly sure. So I decided first to go to the motorcycle. Luckily, it was still there, parked against the side of the road. Which meant he couldn't have gone too far.

I pulled my phone out as a flashlight, shining it on the ground as I walked forward. A light snow had begun to fall, the flakes catching in the glowing white of my phone. It would've been pretty if I wasn't so nervous, so worried. So scared.

I didn't know this city that well. I didn't know what the people here were like. I didn't know where Puck was. At the moment, it felt like I didn't know anything. I was helpless, and harshly aware of the fact.

It took twenty minutes for me to walk down to Reindeer's Antlers. Maybe he would be there, since he seemed to love the place so much. Only it was closed, and no one was out there. I shivered, biting my lips, fear increasing with each second, with each noise.

"Calm down," I told myself. I turned on my phone, pulling up the GPS system in it. I let it calibrate to my current location, and as I did, I heard a voice. I immediately looked up, body tense, ready. I saw nothing through the shadows, but then again, that didn't mean there actually was nothing there.

"Hello?" I asked tentatively. No one responded.

_It's ok, you're just imagining things_, I told myself. I looked back down at my phone, which had finally updated, and studying the map, I decided to head a bit further downtown to the Detroit Riverfront. Noting to calm people down like staring at a body of water- it certainly helped me find my inner peace.

So I left Reindeer's Antlers behind, still feeling a bit uneasy, setting a fast pace to get to the river. Ten minutes of walking later, and I was there .The river was mostly frozen over by what looked to be a thin layer of ice. The stars reflected off of the glittering surface, dark in the cold evening. I decided to walk along the edge of the river, and if I still didn't find him… well… we'd see what would happen then.

The problem was, the more I walked, the more on edge I felt. I would hear muffled footsteps through the soft layer of snow on the ground, but would see nothing. I would hear whispering, even when no one was around. I was about ready to call it quits when I heard a voice call out something.

"Good evening dearie."

I whipped around, brandishing my phone like a weapon. The light captured the person sitting a bit in front of me. It was a man, thick and muscled, with socks on his hands for mittens and long, greasy black hair.

"Um, hi," I said awkwardly, ready to turn around and head the other direction. Only when I turned, there was another man standing there, tall figure threatening in the shadows. He took a step closer to me, so I backed up a bit.

"What are you doing out so late?" the sitting man asked, and it wasn't an imposing question, only the way he said each word made it sound like one.

"I was just taking a stroll, but I'm ready to head back in now," I said, trying to stay calm, to stop the shivering in my body, which was from not only coldness but fear. The sitting man smiled.

"Oh, but what if we're not ready?"

At the word we're, two more men came out of the shadows, all big and beefy and strong looking. My heart was in my throat, clawing desperately to get out.

"Sir, I have nothing, honestly. And my parents aren't far behind, and if they see you they won't be very happy, and-"

"She's lying," one of the standing men interrupted.

Another one nodded. "Yeah, we followed her for 'bout thirty minutes. Ain't nobody else wit her."

The sitting man's smile became vindictive. "Why aren't you telling the truth, missy? Are you scared?"

I stood up taller, regretting not bringing a gun or something with me. I was always too impulsive of a person for my own good.

"What do you want? I don't have anything valuable on me, honestly."

"Oh, don't worry, _you're _valuable enough. Nothing like a pretty little girl wandering around at night to please me and my men."

My stomach rolled unpleasantly as his words, thick and suggestive, and one of the men put a hand on my shoulder.

"Now, you're going to come quietly with us, got it? If you even _try _calling anyone, we will-"

A gunshot rang through the air, and the hand on my shoulder disappeared with a loud scream in my ear. I turned around, watching as the man fell to the ground, eyes rolling back in his head and blood pouring from a hole in the middle of his chest.

I turned back around, and the man sitting down was suddenly up, eyes wide. One of the other two guys took a step back, confusion flashing in his face before it ripped into an expression of agony, before he flew forward from the impact of the shot to the back of his skull.

"_What the fuck!_" the man who had been sitting, no doubt the leader, shouted, lurching forward and grabbing me, putting me in front of his body, as if for protection. Another gunshot, and the last of his henchmen dropped to the ground from a shot through his neck.

That's when Puck appeared out of the shadows, still in his pajamas, but looking entirely like the threatening, wild assassin he was as he strode forward purposefully, kicking one of the men's bodies out of the way.

The man holding me pulled a rusty knife out of his pocket, thrusting it up against my neck, pressing down a bit. "Don't you dare take a step closer! Or she _dies_!"

Puck's face was dark with rage, violent fury. "If you so much as lay another finger on her, I will rip you apart limb by limb and make you watch as I do so."

The man's hand shook, making the knife push a bit harder into my skin, making me wince. Puck's eyes stayed locked with the man's.

"You don't scare me, boy!" the man spat.

Puck fingered the gun at his side, raising it a bit. "I should."

Before either of them could say anything else, Puck flicked his arm, and suddenly another shot burned my ears. The bullet hit the man right in the forearm, the one holding me, and he howled as he dropped the knife, stepping back. I pushed him off of me, stepping as far back as I could, a sick feeling swirling in my stomach.

Puck stepped over to the man, who he kicked to the ground, raising the gun and pointing it at his forehead. I didn't even have time to stop him before he shot the man through the head. And the man didn't even have time to scream before he died.

The night was dark and dizzying and rich with the horrible smell of copper, and I lurched forward, emptying everything that had been in my stomach onto the ground. Puck blinked once, twice, eyes swiveling to the four bodies, lying silently, bleeding rich scarlet into the snow. He looked at the gun and then at me, and suddenly I had a horrible feeling that he still didn't remember who I was, that he was going to kill me too, after saving me, after killing the others.

But he didn't. Instead he tossed the gun to the ground and leaned against the railing between land and the frozen river and screamed.

"Puck, please," I said, not sure what was going on inside of his head, not sure what was going on at all anymore. I walked up to him, wrapping one arm around his waist, and then he let go of the railing, and instead of pulling away from me, he all but threw himself at me. His arms wrapped over mine, and his face was buried in my shoulder, and he wasn't screaming anymore, but sobbing, body freezing cold against my slightly less freezing cold body. At first I didn't know what to do, had no idea how to react, because Puck was not supposed to cry, definitely not supposed to cry. He was an assassin, hardened by the world, turned into an emotionless machine. And here he was, body leaning against mine, as if he would fall if I let go, which he might. I put a hand on his back, rubbing in gentle circles as he emptied himself into my shoulder.

We stayed like that for a couple minutes, until his tears died away, and he was just left shivering against me. This wasn't Deadnight, wasn't even Puck, was a small, scared boy who didn't know what to do. He pulled away, eyes big and green and watery, nose red and cheeks flushed against his otherwise pale skin.

"I'm so sorry," he said through the tears, words torn up and ragged and so raw with pain that it brought tears to my own eyes.

"Puck, you have nothing to apologize for," I whispered back, not knowing what to say.

"I didn't mean to kill them."

"Puck, it's ok."

"No, it's not. I'm a murderer. They made me a murderer."

I stiffened, pulling back. "What do you mean? Who made you a murderer?"

His eyebrows furrowed, and suddenly his face changed, wiped clean of emotion, wiped clean of everything.

"I don't know."

"Puck, what do you mean-"

He took two steps backwards, looking around, eyes large and lost until they focused on me.

"What the fuck just happened?" he asked a second later.

Something wasn't right here. "What do you mean? You killed those guys who were taking me. And-"

"What guys? Why aren't we in the hotel? What the hell is going on?"

I spoke slowly, my mind not able to wrap around what was happening. "Puck, we went to sleep. You had a nightmare. You woke up and couldn't remember who I was. You thought I was with the Scarlet Hand, and that I was going to… do something to you. Then you busted out of the hotel, and I came out trying to find you, and these guys tried to kidnap me or something, and you killed them."

His eyes roamed around as I spoke, landing on each man, absorbing what I was saying but remaining completely blank. "Grimm, none of that happened."

"Um, yes it did. You were just sobbing about it all."

He crossed his arms. "I don't sob. You must be hallucinating."

"Puck, I'm not! How do you explain us being out here then?" My voice was panicked, because there was something very, very wrong going on and I just didn't know what.

He shrugged. "I don't know, maybe I slept-walked or something?"

"You didn't! You ran out here and killed those guys and why can't you remember?"

He gripped his skull, frowning deeply, but in the end just shook his head. "Sabrina, I don't… I don't know. I don't remember any of that happening."

"Why not? Puck, think harder. I swear to God it happened! Something's wrong with you! You said Scarlet Hand did something to you, sat you down or something, maybe if you just-"

"Grimm! I have _absolutely one hundred percent no idea what you're talking about_! So could you please stop yelling at me?" he interrupted loudly.

"You said someone made you a murderer! You were just freaking crying, for God's sake!"

He lifted his hand up and rubbed his face, frowning at the wetness he no doubt felt there. "Sabrina… I don't… I can't…"

He looked so confused and so lost but it only served the fire of my own desperation and panic. "No, you have to. Why won't you-"

"Can we please just go back to the hotel? I don't have the answer to any of your questions."

And he didn't. I could see as much in his eyes. And it didn't make sense because he should. Because it _just happened_.

There was something going on here, something wrong and weird and something I didn't know about. And not knowing scared me. But there was nothing I could do about it, nothing now, so I just nodded.

"Ok. Ok. Let's go."

He looked at me strangely before following. Neither of us spoke, me being trapped in my own thoughts, he no doubt feeling the same way. I had assumed there was more to Puck than he believed. But now, it seemed that there was more to Puck than he even _knew_.

The man at the front desk looked even more confused than when I had walked out, raising an eyebrow at us, two teenagers who were probably blue with coldness and both wearing pajamas.

Our room was freezing, no doubt because the broken window was letting in all the cold air from outside, and Puck gave the shattered glass a confused look, same with the sheets thrown off of his bed and the lamp he had tipped over in his jump to the window.

"I don't-"

"I know, you don't know. We'll figure it out later. For now," I sighed heavily and rubbed my face, "just try and get some sleep."

He nodded, staring at me longer than necessary. "You went out in your pajamas and Nike shorts with nothing but your phone and your key card to find me."

It wasn't a question, but a fact. I nodded. Something shifted in his eyes, and his lips twisted. "Why?"

I blinked. Wasn't it obvious? "I couldn't just leave you out there, insane and alone and what-not."

"Yes you could."

"No, I couldn't."

Something shifted in his eyes, and he looked away, pulling his sheets off of the floor and wrapping himself in them. Then, his eyebrows furrowed again.

"I didn't go to sleep on my bed. I fell asleep on the couch."

"Yeah, I moved you over to your bed. You looked uncomfortable on the couch."

He shook his head disbelievingly. "I don't get you," he said eventually.

For some reason, I smiled. "Puck, it's called kindness."

"People aren't supposed to show me kindness."

"Yeah, well, I don't particularly care about those other people."

He frowned. "You should."

"No, actually, I shouldn't. Everyone deserves a little kindness."

"No, they don't."

"Yes, they do."

He huffed angrily and turned around, sheets whipping to emphasize his irritation. I grinned.

"Oh get over it Puck. That's what friends are for."

The words made him stiffen, and he actually turned around to look at me. "What?"

"I said, that's what friends are for."

"Friends?"

"Yeah! Why else would I freeze my ass off for you?"

I expected him to say we weren't friends, weren't even close to friends, but instead he just stared at me. "I get enemies. I get clients. I get targets. I get helpers. But _you_? I don't _get _you."

He shook his head wordlessly, and I curtsied. "Thank you for the complement."

"It wasn't a complement."

"Yes it was."

He glared at me harshly, and I shot him a cheeky smile, and he turned around and hopped into bed. I didn't understand what was going on. I didn't understand why Puck didn't remember anything. But I was too tired to think about it anymore. And asking him about it only seemed to irritate him, to hurt him, and he had gone through enough today as it was. So I decided to give him a break.

After all, what else friends are for?

That's right.

Friends.

* * *

**Again, sorry that took so long! Life gets in the way of so much. Ugh.**

**Well, hope you enjoyed and also hope I update sooner next time.**

**LOVE YOU ALL AND THANKS FOR BEING AS PATIENT AS POSSIBLE!**

**-anniepear**

**(again, I will be posting the review later. Geez I'm super behind!)**


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